Ezra screams as Leon jumps, the force of the bullet knocking his body to the side with his teary eyes still wide open. Crimson begins to ooze from the wound, soaking the sand around Leon's head and making Ezra's vision cloud with red.
Ezra drops to his knees, finally allowed to move even though the two men hold tight to his arms. His body is numb, pinpricks of fried nerves jolting his system when he's unable to take his eyes away from the corpse across from him.
"Let him go," Orgon's says, voice echoing against the metal walls before finding its way to Ezra. The room feels empty besides the two of them, as if all the people in the bleachers vanished with the gunshot.
Ezra staggers to his feet as the men release his arms, watching Orgon step away before he falls at Leon's side. He stares down, lip beginning to quiver as his hand pauses in front of the teen's bruised and dirty face. Dark crimson had started to drop from his hairline and into his eye.
Ezra reaches down with bloody hands, chest beginning to heave with choked sobs as he grips Leon's shoulders and carefully pulls him onto his folded knees. His head rolls, only making Ezra's expression twist with agony.
He brushes the hair from Leon's forehead, unable to see through the tears falling from his eyes and onto the younger's cheek. He couldn't do anything, and just watched. He could only watch.
"Relax, kid," Orgon says, voice muffled and unsteady in Ezra's ears, "he's gonna wake up- just give him a few minutes."
"I, I could k-kill you," Ezra stutters, hugging Leon's body close and squeezing his eyes shut, "I could kill you right now."
Orgon smiles sadly, tilting his head. "But you won't," he says quietly. His voice is painful to listen to. "You can't. All you're going to is sob over your claim's corpse until he wakes up and kills you. You won't defend yourself, because you can't hurt him."
Orgon slowly lowers himself into a crouch, leaning his elbows on his knees as he studies Leon's face. "Isn't it just a bitch, claiming someone and then having to defend them with your life?" he asks, "and when they die- then what? How do you continue on when you didn't do the one job your instincts were screaming at you to do?
"This is why I kept you under my watch," Orgon says, hissing his words through his teeth, "you were free for less than a week and decided to attach yourself to some poor kid. Is this how you want innocent lives to end? Look at what you did to him. The only reason he's in this mess is because of you."
Ezra chokes on another sob, hiding his face the best he can in Leon's shoulder. Even though the man that killed him is within arms reach he has no desire to attack. He no longer wants to reach forward and claw out Orgon's throat, or tear his head from his body. He just wants to sit in the deafening silence his mind created for him, and try to wipe the sand and blood from Leon's face.
"Oh, would you look at that," Orgon says with a smile, gesturing to Leon, "his eyes are blue now. Isn't that the telltale sign of a fledgling? A vampire that's never fed? I think he's going to wake up soon."
Ezra pulls away, swiping drying blood across his face as he wipes the tears from his eyes. Even though he's struggling to believe it, Orgon's right. Leon's irises had shifted from hazel to crystal blue while he wasn't looking, only making his wide eyes look even bigger. Orgon really had turned him into a fledgling before putting a bullet through his brain, but that severe of a wound would put such a strain on his body.
Fledglings are vampires who have yet to feed, and because of that they tend to be extremely violent and unstable. Vampires use human blood to function and heal, but Leon's veins have just been flooded with venom. He needs something else before he'll be able to think straight again, or be able to resist the urge to feed or fight.
"Clover," Orgon demands suddenly, looking off to the side, "come here, would you?"
Ezra glances up as the woman steps over, pausing a moment before crouching down beside her father. Tears stream down her face, but Ezra doesn't sympathize at all. She's a traitor, cold blooded and heartless. She never cared about S1. She never cared about any of them.
Ezra bares his teeth as Clover leans down, not daring to look him in the eye as she puts her mouth beside Leon's ear. She draws in a deep breath as Ezra tries to pull the teen away, but doesn't touch either of them.
A few moments pass before she squeezes her eyes shut, making Orgon grin as she begins muttering in a language Ezra doesn't know.
"Don't worry, Ezra," Orgon says, patting Clover on the shoulder as Leon's eyelids flutter. She sits back, letting tears stream down her clean face. "See? He's alive. You'll live to see him walk again."
Ezra watches Leon's face twitch, grinding his teeth to avoid letting out another sob as the teen blinks. His crystal eyes flare and struggle to focus, making him squint and flex the muscles in his arms.
Orgon smiles happily as Leon looks around, eyes wild and confused. He reaches to the side, gripping the front of Ezra's bloody shirt as he tries to pull himself up.
Ezra stares, unable to pick himself up off his knees as Leon pushes off his lap, landing in the sand between him and Orgon. This isn't the kid he grew to know over the last month. This isn't the kid that taught him how to be humane. The kid he knew used to have warm, kind eyes, and a bright smile. Now his eyes are wide with hysteria, lips curled up to expose the bloody fangs that had forced their way into his mouth.
By the time Leon kicks back a few feet Orgon had pushed a wooden stake into his hand, and the teen stares down at it in confusion. His entire body is shaking dangerously, and blood falls from within his wet hair. He looks up at Orgon.
Clover looks down, gripping the front of her now dirty dress pants. "Accipe spiritum suum," she mutters, and Ezra watches as Leon stifles. He glances over, looking Ezra up and down as he shifts to his knees. Those eyes are not his. Those movements are not his.
"Accipe spiritum suum. Animam illius serva." Clover sighs, voice thick in her throat. "Pater meus. Occidere eum."
Leon locks his gaze on Ezra's chest, rolling the wooden stake in his hand. Orgon begins to cheer as he lunges, drawing a short cry from Ezra as he tackles him into the sand. The crowd is screaming, and the announcer is speaking frantically into his microphone, but no one can hear what he's saying.
Leon holds Ezra down by the throat, drawing the stake back above his head. For a brief moment through the shadows Ezra can see the innocent hazel eyes he first met in the city, and not a blood lusting monster.
He remembers wandering in the city and passing under the neon lights of all the nightlife shops, trying to convince Leon not to go inside. He remembers sitting in the café, judging whatever Iris dared them to try that night. He remembers spending early mornings in Leon's room, staring at his computer screen and watching every video the teen could find of things he found interesting from the last five years.
Those are the things he wants to remember. Not those shiny blue eyes, or bloody fangs. Not the black eye or bruises. Not the scratches and bandages. He wants to remember Leon. His Leon.
Ezra screams as the stake plunges into his chest, throwing his head back and gripping Leon's wrist as it twists violently. He can feel his ribs break, and his lung tear. Fire spreads through his chest, burning every nerve in his torso. The stake burns his skin, boiling his blood and searing his insides.
Ezra gasps as the weapon is ripped from his body, wheezing in pain as he grips the wound. This isn't what he imagined death to feel like.
The screaming of the spectators shifts from excitement to chaos as Leon pushes off his lap, letting Ezra curl up on his side as he struggles to breathe. The speakers blare with what sounds to be sirens and people talking over a radio.
"Great job, Leon!" Orgon praises, clapping his hands. He pushes to his feet as he pulls Clover up by the hand. He leans close to her ear. "We should get going. Someone ratted the location."
Ezra heaves a breath through his teeth, pushing up on his elbow as another scream echoes off the metal walls. He coaxes his eyes open, forcing himself to sit up as he watches Leon tackle Orgon down by the shoulders.
Clover only watches with a solemn expression as Leon draws the stake back with both hands, crying out as he drives it into the conductor's chest. Orgon screams as it digs through his ribs, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief as crimson sprays from his mouth.
The background noise of the arena fades to near nothing as Orgon's eyes roll back in his head, a loud hiss pushing from his body as Leon rips the stake from his heart, splattering his already dirty face and chest with small drops of crimson. He breathes hard through his teeth as he throws the weapon off to the side, eyes darting to Clover as she shifts.
Ezra clutches his chest, wincing hard as Leon lunges off of Orgon's corpse and tackles Clover. She doesn't scream, but the look of terror on her face as Leon cracks her head to the side sticks as he tears into her throat.
Ezra cringes, pushing all the way back against the metal wall. Now that Clover's panicked breathing has died it's easy to hear the sirens wailing outside the factory, and the gunshots that are muted through the stone walls. Ezra and Leon are the only two left alive in the arena, stands clear and quiet.
After a few minutes shouting fills the distant hallways, getting closer then farther as police search the building and take down any left over participants that stand their ground. In all of his years of fighting, Ezra has never heard so much resistance by law enforcement. No one ever knows where the fights are, who's involved, or who's good and who's bad.
Ezra leans his head back against the wall as Leon pulls his face from Clover's throat, wiping the crimson from his jaw before looking down at his hands. His silent trembling is visible from here.
"Leon?" Ezra asks, voice quiet and rough. He wheezes as he grips his chest again, looking down at his hand as he pulls it away. It's soaked in wet crimson, shiny and dark. He doesn't have enough fresh blood left in his system to heal something this deep.
Leon hesitates, finally pulling his gaze away from the body beneath him. His red eyes connect with Ezra's, no longer hysterical but still completely terrified.
He jolts as Ezra coughs and casts a trail of thick blood down his chin, gritting his teeth and trying to sit up a little straighter. Leon staggers to his feet, stumbling before falling to his knees at Ezra's side.
"Oh, god," Leon stutters, reaching for Ezra's chest before hesitating, "Ezra- Ezra, I'm sorry. Please- I didn't mean to. I couldn't, I didn't-"
"Leon." Ezra cuts him off, forcing himself to push up slightly as a group of people enter the seating area. They start shouting, and more enter. "Leon, relax- it's alright. I'm not dead. It'll be alright."
"He wanted me to kill you," Leon chokes, lip quivering as the metal door to the arena begin to shutter open, "he gave me the stake; he made me."
"But you didn't," Ezra assures him, glancing back to the armor clad police creeping into the arena. Amelia is with them, as well as Null.
He grips Leon's hand, pulling him close. "Why didn't you?"
Leon hesitates, leaning back against the wall as he finally sees the group approaching. He slumps his shoulders. "It's not what she told me to do," he says, "I had no desire to kill you. Just him."
"So you stabbed me instead?" Ezra chuckles quietly, wincing as his lung protests. "I thought that was the last thing I was ever going to see."
Leon chokes on a laugh, leaning his head on Ezra's shoulder. "She told me to hurt you," he says, gripping Ezra's free hand. He doesn't seem to mind the fact it's bloody and matted with sand. "But I stabbed your right side. Your heart's on the left."
-:*:-
Ezra gives a deep sigh as the bandage on his chest is removed, exposing the fuzzy red blotch in which the stake went in. It had been soaked in holy water prior to the attack, the doctors said, and that's why it had so much trouble healing.
Apparently being flooded with dog fighting victims is the most chaotic thing the ER has received this morning, even topping the one nurse's story of having to remove a stiletto heel lodged in a man's abdomen.
Despite the push and pull of doctors and nurses trying to check Leon every fifteen minutes, he doesn't leave Ezra's side. He had been taken to shower upon arrival, and put in a clean white shirt and baggy sweatpants. All the blood had been cleaned from his chest and teeth, allowing the healing bruises and scratches he acquired at the ring to shine against his pale skin.
Leon rests his elbows on the edge of the hospital bed, one hand gripping Ezra's and the other tracing all the black lines sketched on Ezra's throat and bare chest. Countless patches of skin had been cut with silver knifes during his time locked away. At least all of the holy water burns have faded.
"Ezra," Leon murmurs, eyelids drooping with fatigue as he runs his fingers over the bullet scar in Ezra's stomach, "I'm gonna to move out one day. I'm gonna buy a little house outside the city, and get a little cornfield as a front yard. I want two dogs, and a fat cat. I want to learn how to cook, and how to garden.
"I want to live a simple life, with simple goals and simple problems," he murmurs, resting his forehead on the bed, "I want you to live a simple life too. I want you to be happy, and to be safe. When I move out of the city, will you come with me? Will you live with me?"
Ezra chuckles, squeezing Leon's hand as he hears Lora and Josh's frantic voices somewhere outside the curtains. "Why wouldn't I?" he asks, pushing himself up a little straighter against the pillow.
"Your gang," Leon murmurs, lifting his head. His eyes glow a vibrant red, reflecting the white lights of the room. "You wouldn't wanna be with them?"
Ezra smiles, reaching out and gently gripping Leon's jaw to get his focus. He flinches, but neither comment about it.
"I think they got enough out of me, of us," Ezra says, thumbing a fresh scar on Leon's cheek as the teen smiles, "I think they'll be alright when we move out of the city."