"Hey!"
In the distance, a deafening boom echoes. The hand on Elijah's shoulder shakes him harder.
"Hey! Get up!"
Elijah frowns; his eyes blink open. Dust swirls in his line of sight, mixing with the shadowy corners of his surroundings. Yet, he remembers it being so bright before.
A face is looking down at him; blond hair nearly grazes his cheeks. Dark eyes wide as void are on him, an expression he doesn't recognise. Upon further exploration, he realises he's lying on his back; the half-shattered floor digs into him. What happened?
"Come on!" the blond-haired being above him urges him, face streaked with dust and something dark red he doesn't want to focus on. He's wearing an all-black uniform, and now Elijah recognises Gray.
"How..." Elijah finds his voice muddled; his tongue doesn't want to roll around the syllables. "What—" He pulls himself up in a sitting position and pain comes to him all at once, like an ocean wave ready to drown him. He barely has the time to turn to the side before puking. It scratches his throat raw and he coughs, heaving between breaths.
Gray's hands are on his shoulders again, but this time they're holding him up against every hit of nausea strong enough to topple him over. He's speaking quickly, but Elijah only catches bits and pieces of what he's saying over the roaring in his ears.
... The ceiling fell...
... found you like this...
... I'm sorry for your leg...
Enough clarity hits Elijah to make him ask. "My leg?"
Gray's lips press together, and he looks down. "It was buried in rubble when I got here. I freed it, but..." He waves in the general direction of his lower half, and now Elijah's fear is so encompassing that the nausea isn't only due to pain anymore.
He follows his gaze down. Dark cloths are tightly wrapped around the length of his left leg—his own jacket and Gray's undershirt, he realises, bloodied and covered in dust. That's where the pain is coming from.
"Did my best, but... I mean, it's broken at the very least," Gray continues, still crouched next to him. "Good thing I found you, we were about to consider this area cleared. Did you talk to anyone from the Shade?"
Elijah frowns, opens his mouth, pukes again.
Gray grimaces. "Yeah, not the right moment." He wraps Elijah's arm around his shoulders to help him up. "Come on, I'll get you out."
He pulls Elijah up with some difficulty. Elijah's head spins and pain thrums against his temples as soon as he's in a standing position, and he nearly falls down again. Nothing but unspeakable waves of pain shoot up from his leg, and Elijah doesn't even dare moving it. Putting his weight only on his right leg, he lets the other drag along with every hopped step Gray forces him to take.
There's something in his mind, strong and demanding attention, like a dream soon after waking up, but he can't seem to focus on it long enough to understand what it is. He can't seem to focus on anything at all around him in truth; all sounds are muffled but Gray's voice at his side, his vision is a narrowing tunnel of black and faded by the dust flying mid-air in front of his nose, every breath feels like sandpaper on his throat. His left leg is a limb hanging off his body he doesn't feel like he has any control over, and he's awfully cold. Elijah doesn't think he's ever been this cold before—it's something deep, coming from inside, as if his lungs were swimming in cold water. He's surprised his breath doesn't fog as it leaves his lips.
"... self?"
"Uh?" Elijah forces his head to lift, even though it's so heavy. It's brighter around them now, and air feels less oppressing when it enters his lungs. He's tripping less, too, because the floor is clear.
"Were you by yourself?" Gray repeats. There's a rush in his breath—Elijah is putting more of his weight than he thought on him.
"I don't—" He stops to think. He blinks, his eyelids feel heavy. Again, that something is squirming in his mind, demanding attention, but his thoughts feel so hazed, so distant. What was he doing? He was running, yes, he was running. He was running, and then... His head hurts. Why was he running?
He tries to focus on the memory, even though the strain of it makes the pounding in his temples stronger and the knife-like pain up his leg sharper. What was he—
He gasps. Getting separated from Jesse, the Shade storming the corridors, his watch breaking, the explosives in the building...
"Tell everyone!"
Panic rises through him. He ran, he remembers he ran, and then, and then, something happened, what happened—
"Lark!"
Elijah's eyes widen. Alouette. "Where is she?!" he gasps. His body turns so suddenly Gray almost loses his grip on him.
His fingers clench over his ribs, hard enough to leave a bruise. "What—"
"Where is she?! Alouette." The name drops off his lips like a plea, and he's trying to turn around now, to go back, to see what's behind him, but Gray's grip on him gets tighter, and he's being pulled up a mangled set of stairs, and he's not letting him go.
The white afternoon light blinds Elijah. A sting rushed through his eyeballs, forcing him to close his eyes. There are more hands on him, but he can't see anyone, and the realisation that Alouette is not with them is the only thing bringing clarity to his heavy, muddled mind. He forces himself to blink his eyes open, ignoring the pain.
"Al!"
He's surrounded by men in dark uniforms that are looking at him confused, not seeming to quite know what to do with him. Gray has passed him off to them, and is now speaking quietly to someone.
"Al!" Elijah tries tugging his arm free, but he's so tired, and his mind is so distant, and the only thing keeping him away from the ground is the hold the guards have on him.
A flash of light explodes in the corner of his vision. What remains of the second floor collapses onto the rest of the building with a thunderous boom. Elijah's heart falls out of his chest.
"Al!" He wrenches free and moves forward, but his leg gives out under him. "Al!"
Suddenly, Gray is in front of him. His hand clenches around his shoulder; the look in his eyes is unreadable. "I'm sorry," he says, before swiping Elijah's only standing leg out from under him and pushing him back. Elijah falls into the guards, that scramble to get a hold of him before the asphalt claims him. "Get him back to the Revolution, he needs help."
"Let me go!"
Someone opens a door and Elijah is shoved into a vehicle, and when he tries to claw his way out, his fingers meet the glass of the window.
Gray stares at him for a while longer as a guard gets on the driver's seat and the engine roars to life, and then turns and walks back towards the folding building.
• • •
Another resounding boom.
Motes of dust fly overhead, tiny ghosts under the ceiling light. Jesse doesn't know how long he's been lying here, under Lark. He must've closed his eyes at some point, he isn't sure, but the men are gone. Did they believe him dead?
Lark's unconscious body is heavy on top of him; he wants to move but can't find the strength to. His mind must still be hazed by the explosion and the fall and the pain, because he thinks he'd like to stay here, close his eyes and never move again. It would be... restful. Calming. A fitting end. This isn't his war, after all. What's the point? He's tired of giving and giving and giving in hopes all will be forgotten. If he closed his eyes here, though—if he did, all would be over. No pain, no strain, nothing at all. He's had his run, but what's he even doing, now?
Gunshots in the distance. Jesse's eyes snap open. The weight on top of him knocks at his awareness again.
Lark.
He has to bring Lark to safety—get him help. How could he let himself go like this?
He prods Lark's shoulder experimentally, ignoring the pain that flares through his chest. "Lark?" His voice is little more than air through his mouth, and he has to clear his throat. The taste of blood is still on his tongue, stronger than before. "Lark, can you move? I can't breathe." He lets out the hiss of a laugh; he's never felt so pathetic before.
Lark doesn't move, so Jesse gently pushes him aside, until there's enough space for him to crawl out from under him. His shirt is covered in blood—at first he thinks it's Lark's, but then the sharp pain through his own body threatens his attention again.
He's been shot.
Still kneeling, he forces himself to take stock of his wounds. The ache is intense, but the fact that he's still standing tells him it can't be as bad as the last time. He runs his hand over his chest, and gasps audibly when it reaches his left shoulder. His hand comes away dripping red, and for a moment he folds over himself on the ground, holding his breath against the pain. Every passing second makes it harder to find the courage to go on.
Lark.
He forces himself to stand up and drapes Lark's arm over his shoulder again, pulling him up. His body nearly gives out under his weight, the sting in his shoulder and ankle too strong to keep moving. But he doesn't have a choice.
He clenches his teeth, trying his hardest to focus on the task at hand and not the sharp pain thrumming through him with every step, and makes himself pull Lark along, even though he's heavy, even though Jesse's exhausted. Giving up is not an option, not when Lark depends on him to bring him to safety. He could never abandon his friend to his fate, even if the thought of annulment feels so tempting, even if it would be so easy to just... give up.
There are voices in the distance, screaming orders back and forth. They echo through the corridors, and Jesse's mind is so muddled he can't tell where they're coming from. Still, he tries his best to avoid them, to keep to paths that aren't in plain sight, even though it's not easy while dragging someone else along. But there's no other option. He'll save Lark just how Lark saved him months ago, because there's no other way this could go. He wouldn't leave him here, not even to get himself to safety. His own safety doesn't matter that much, after all.
Lark's leg gets stuck on the corner of a sofa. Jesse doesn't notice and trips. He reaches out for anything to stabilise himself on and accidentally tips over a metal chair. It falls to the ground with a clang, and Jesse mutters out a curse under his breath. Blade-sharp pain pierces his shoulder, and he has to bite his tongue not to let out a sound.
He stays curled up on the ground for a while, hoping the pain will get dimmer, but it doesn't. His shoulder keeps bleeding, and he knows deep down that it isn't a good thing, that he should do something about it if he doesn't want to die, but it feels so inconsequential in the great scheme of things he can't make himself do it.
He takes hold of Lark again and pulls himself up to his feet. The edges of his vision dip in black, but he doesn't allow himself to stop again. He can stop all he wants after he gets out of here. He has to make sure Lark is safe, first.
He gets out of the door and into a new, bright corridor. He doesn't know where's he's going, now—he just keeps moving, hoping he'll find a way out. If he pauses to think, he'll never move again.
All of a sudden, a man turns into the corridor. Jesse doesn't recognise him, and he's not wearing the black uniform of the Palace. He's Shade.
The man's eyes widen when he sees Jesse, and he lifts his gun.
Jesse tries to dash to the side to dip through a new door, but Lark's foot tangles between his, and he falls down to his knees. The man takes the safety off and points his gun at him.
He's lost count of how many times someone has threatened to shoot him today. And to think he was so sure things would work out alright, earlier this morning.
As he looks into the man's eyes, a pathetic smile curves Jesse's lips. Deep down, he's always known things would end like this. A bullet nearly took his life once; it feels fitting that a bullet should be the thing to kill him, at last. He's already been given more months than he should have—this has been a long time coming.
A stupid, foolish laugh breaks out of his throat. Is this how he dies? A gunshot to the head two floors below ground, with a friend's arm draped over his shoulders? It feels oddly poetic, even for him.
Jesse has no bullets nor gun to protect himself with—he's lost them all, here and there, in his quest to save Lark.
He can see the resolution in the man's eyes, and closes his.
Bang.
• • •
Alouette can barely catch her breath.
The leader of the Shade approaches her, and all she can do is skitter back and out of his way, her heart pounding.
But, to her surprise, he doesn't grab her, nor pulls out a weapon to finish her. Instead, he picks her gun up from the floor and collects the scattered bullets that have fallen out of her belt during the fight, one by one. Then, giving her one last glance, he leaves the room and closes the door.
Alouette stares at the spot where he was until a moment ago in shock. She knows she's just been spared. She was lucky—too lucky. He's given her a once in a lifetime opportunity; she should take it and thank her lucky stars she's still alive.
But he's the leader of the Shade, and Harry needs him. She can't let him slip out of her grip like this.
She lifts herself off the ground and stalks towards the door. She's weaponless now, but it matters little. She'll keep an eye on him from afar and find a weapon to capture him on the go.
Her hand closes over the handle, and she pulls it down. The door doesn't budge. She frowns, and tries again. It doesn't open—it's locked. Her eyes widen. He locked her inside.
"Hey!" she shouts, pounding on the door. "Get back here!" She tries to break the door open with her shoulder, but there's no use. Her hands close around the stool and she hurls it against the door. The lock is sturdy, and it doesn't give way. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
She steps back from the door, running her fingers through her hair in a panic. She's locked in a room below ground, and has no way to get out. Her breath speeds up. This doesn't look good. She kicks the door with a shout, hissing at the pain that strikes her foot. She falls to the ground, pressing her hand down onto her shoe to ease the sting. That wasn't a bright move.
Her eyes catch sight of her watch, and her mood lifts. She can still call for help. She presses the side button and lifts it. "Elijah? Jesse?" No one replies, and she frowns. "Anyone?"
The line is still silent, and she looks at her watch. Her breath catches in her chest. The glass is smashed, and the screen is dark. It must've broken when she was thrown over the desk. She's cut off from everybody else, too.
A chill runs down her spine.
She's completely alone.
• • •
"What the hell are you doing?"
Jesse's eyes snap open.
A figure in a black uniform is standing in front of him, with the man dead at his feet. The figure crouches down, and now the light is hitting his hair, warm copper. "What are you doing?" Jayden repeats, his gaze hard. "Come on." He stands and tugs at his arm, and a gasp leaves Jesse's throat before he can stop it.
"No. No, no, no—" He shakes his head, his hands are trembling and the cloud that had momentarily lifted thunders back all at once. "No, I can't—"
Jayden takes a good look at him—at his shirt covered in blood, at Lark at his side, at the tears streaming down his face that he hadn't even noticed were there. Jesse brushes them away, but only paints a red streak on his cheek and can't even feel their wetness.
Jayden frowns, swallowing hard, as though preparing himself for something. "Jesse," he starts, but then notices the hole in Jesse's shirt at his shoulder, and his eyes widen. He throws himself to his knees next to him and opens his uniform and takes off his undershirt. His bare chest is so clean against the mess of blood and dust that are his surroundings, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. He wraps his shirt around Jesse's shoulder and ties it as tight as he can. Jesse bites back a scream, clenching his hand around Lark's wrist. When he's done, Jayden grabs his other shoulder to stabilise him and gives him a long look, frowning at what he sees. "I need to get you out, now." He stands and closes his uniform and wraps his arm around Jesse's waist, but Jesse balks and strikes his hand away.
"No, no, I can't—" Another shocked gasp leaves his mouth, and his shoulders are shaking, and everything is narrowing and the air smells of iron and staleness and dust gets in his lungs with every breath and he can't stop coughing and Lark—
Jayden gets down to his height again. His movements are stiff with tension, but he takes a deep breath and speaks quietly and clearly. "If you stay here, you will die. Your shoulder doesn't look good—you're losing too much blood. You need to let me get you out—"
Jesse shakes his head violently and scrambles back, stilling only when his body hits Lark's, lying on the ground next to him. "No, I can't, you—" He's breathing quickly, and he's finding it too hard to put his thoughts into words. His head spins.
Jayden's hand closes over his wrist again. "Let me—"
"I can't abandon him!" Jesse's voice is a scream in the corridor. He breaks free and skitters even closer to Lark. "I need to bring him to safety, he needs help! I need to—"
Jayden's gaze moves from him to Lark. He frowns, his lips part. When he speaks, his voice hits Jesse's ears late, as if delayed. "Jesse, he's dead."
The words shatter something inside him. Rage thunders through him like fire. "No, he isn't!"
"Jesse, you need to—"
"He's not dead! I can help him, I have to—"
"You can't help him, Jesse." Jayden doesn't seem to be breathing at all, but neither is Jesse. "He's dead."
Jesse shakes his head again, trying to shake Lark awake. "No, you're lying—"
"Jesse."
"Lark!" His friend doesn't move, no matter how hard Jesse shakes him, how many times he calls for him.
"How long have you been carrying him around?" Jayden's voice is kind, but it doesn't soothe the ache in Jesse's chest. He looks up, but his sight is muddled, as though he's seeing the world through an unfocused lens.
"I—I just—" Jesse's voice breaks. Next to him, Lark doesn't move, doesn't stir. Jesse's hands clench over the fabric of his shirt, dipped in red. The entire world is shaking—he's trembling. "No—"
Jayden's hand touches his. His fingers slowly slide through his, forcing him to let go of Lark's clothes. "I need to bring you out." He's still speaking in that soft way, as if Jesse is a wild animal that might attack him if spooked. "You can't stay here, this building might go down soon. You need help." The pause of a breath. "Let me help you. Please."
"I can't—" Jesse is shaking his head again, disbelief mounting through him. "I can't leave him here, no—"
"I can't let you stay here. I'm not going to. You have to let me—"
"I can't leave him!" Jayden brushes his thumb on Jesse's cheek, and his sight clears. He hadn't even realised he was full on sobbing until now. Jesse's hands wrap around Jayden's wrist. "I can't—"
"I'll get him," Jayden says.
Jesse falters. "What?" The word is barely audible when it leaves his lips, but Jayden hears it nonetheless.
"I'll come back and get him," Jayden repeats, "but you need to come with me first. You need a doctor, fast."
Jesse's fingers clench tighter around his wrist. He's eerily still, now. "Do you promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
Jesse looks at Lark, on the floor beside him. He doesn't want to leave him. He can't make himself move.
He doesn't get to say a goodbye. Jayden stands up and pulls him up by his still healthy arm, hauling him away. Jesse only manages to take one step before his head swims and his legs fold beneath him, taking him to the ground again. Distantly, he's aware of the pain in his ankle, the sting in his shoulder, the way his vision darkens at the edges.
Jayden crouches to his level and pulls Jesse into him. He throws him over his shoulders and stands, lifting him up.
Without a word, he starts down the corridor again.
• • •
Alouette doesn't know how long it has been. She's shouted until her voice grew raw and hit the door with the stool until her muscles grew too tired.
Beyond the door, the sounds have changed—she can't hear any more bangs, any more shouting. All is quiet, weirdly quiet, oddly quiet, and it unsettles her. What is going on? Did they forget her? Did... did everybody die?
Occasionally, a gunshot rings out. Sporadic booms shake the building, and she throws herself under the table every time more dust falls from the ceiling—as if it could protect her. If the building comes down, there will be nowhere for her to hide.
The floor stops shaking, and she runs to the door again. She can't shout anymore, but she pounds her fists against the door incessantly. If only someone heard her—
Her arms are tired, and she throws her back against the door, letting out a deep sigh. Her eyes close, and she imagines she's anywhere else that isn't a forgotten room in a crumbling building. She's suddenly overcome by the feeling that this is it, for her. This is how she dies. She shakes her head, forcing herself to push it back, back, back—she can't start losing her mind, not yet. There has to be a way. Harry wouldn't let her die here—would he?
Crippling fear washes over her again and she tries to push it back, but it's so hard. It's getting so hard. Her throat hurts, and her side aches. It doesn't feel like anything's broken, but she has the feeling there will be a bruise, if she lives long enough to see it.
Her mind drifts to Amina, alone at the Revolution headquarters with Elodie, that doesn't even know where she is—doesn't even suspect a thing. To Harry, waiting for her to come back. Is he getting worried yet? She chuckles. The thought feels ridiculous.
Steps.
Her eyes shoot open. Someone's walking down the corridor.
She starts banging on the door again. "Hey!" she calls out, as loud as she can. "Help! Please!"
The steps stop in front of the door. "Alouette? Is that you?" The voice sounds worried. It takes her a second too long to place it.
"Jayden?!"
"It is you."
She tries the door handle to show him it won't budge. "I can't get out."
There's a moment of silence. Then, a key turns in the lock, and the door swings open. Jayden holds up the silver key with a frown on his face. "Why did someone lock you in here?"
She speeds past him and into the corridor. "There's no time to waste! The leader of the Shade, he was here—"
Jayden stares at her without saying a word.
"What are you waiting for?! We need to—"
"Alouette, the fight is already over."
Alouette's eyes widen. "What?!"
"The fight's over," Jayden repeats. There's blood on his uniform, and his hair is dishevelled. "Were you in here the whole time? Are you okay?"
"I—how—" Alouette's eyebrows furrow. Then, "It's over? But how did it—the explosions, the—"
Jayden gives her a tight smile. "It was a resounding success."
A resounding success.
"We lost some men and had to ask for backup, but we managed to clear the entire building. The Shade is no more."
"What?! But we—"
"They put up a fight, yes, it was chaotic for a while, especially at the start. No one could've guessed this place was riddled with explosives, it was a trap waiting to happen."
Alouette suddenly feels faint. "Riddled with explosives?!"
Jayden nods. "Yes, well. We're better off leaving now."
Alouette follows him down the corridor, her chest hammering. "How many of ours died? And the leader, where—"
"The leader is none of our concern anymore. We lost eleven men, mostly Revolution. A few dozens of the Shade have fallen, the others were taken into custody." Jayden checks the stability of the next corridor before turning into it. "Why didn't you use the watch to ask for help?" Alouette lifts it up for him to see, and he nods. "Ah."
"Why are you here?" she asks back, and he shrugs.
"I was asked to come."
He doesn't say another word until they're out of the building and in the street, that's still swarming with guards from the Palace and soldiers from the Revolution.
Alouette glances around, but Owl is the only familiar face she spots. "Where are the others?"
Jayden pauses in front of the black car parked at the other side of the road. "Elijah is already at the Revolution, Jesse is on his way. They're getting treated." He opens the passenger's side door for her. "Get in."
His words do little to ease her stress, but she sits. He makes to close the door, and she realises he's about to leave. Her hand flies out to stop it. "Where are you going?"
He purses his lips and stares at her, as if he's deciding whether to tell her or not. "I have a promise to keep. I'll be right back," he says in the end, "stay here."
He closes the door and walks back towards the building.
No more apologies needed?
Thank you so much for the 610k reads on this story, it means the world to me.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki