Telepathy is indicated by italics… except in flashbacks, when it's not. I'm sure you'll understand. Reviews are very welcome.
"Comfortable to die?" Stephen's voice rang with disbelief and rage, directed at both John and himself.
How could he not have foreseen it? How could he not have hindered it? And how could Jedikiah so easily accept all those casualties on his strife against the Tomorrow People?
For a moment, John had not known which thoughts came from Stephen and which were his own. In the desperate effort to grasp what had just happened and to save as much and many as they could, the two men suddenly were closer than they'd ever been.
Closer even, maybe – but that thought came later and John knew it was more than just a bit motivated by his jealousy – than Stephen was with Cara. It had not taken long, however, for the younger one to break out of the paralyzing confusion and make the next dangerous move.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Breaking protocol." Before more of our friends die because of your being a coward.
Cara helped lifting Irene, already unconscious, into Stephen's arms, her mind a turmoil of the fear that everyone and the guilt that John was feeling.
"Stephen!"
Roger's son, looking so much like his father that it hurt, straightened up. You should do this. You're our leader. You can't protect us, you won't fight for us. Stop pretending you care about anyone else but yourself!
The bottle in John's hand was empty though he had no memory of drinking.
Stephen had returned three hours ago, telling Russell and Cara he had seen Irene being brought to an ER. There was nothing more they could do now than to hope – hope that the Lair's little brain would make it through.
Hope that nobody would throw a too close look on her DNA and cell patterns.
Cara had tried to talk to him, both in and out of his mind, but John had refused to answer. He knew she felt guilty, and she felt betrayed – by herself for trusting in luck, by John for not having told her about his part in Annex. She was angry, on a level deeper than even Stephen's fury had reached, but still she felt that she needed John's forgiveness.
After him blaming her for the idea she had put in everyone's heads.
After him letting Irene bleed to death.
After him failing her, failing Irene, Russell, all of them.
Stephen was right. John had acted like a coward. Not when he had tried to forbid the collective going out – it had been a stupid plan all along, no matter how many people had loved the idea.
Of course they had. It was hard to accept that from one day to the other, your whole life was reduced to the struggle for survival, especially when it so far had been safe and promising.
For John, the difference hadn't been that great.
He couldn't remember a time in his life when he had not been fighting - against older foster siblings when they bullied him and the younger ones, against his foster parents when they drank up all the money they were supposed to use for their children. At Ultra, he had fought against the other cadets, competitors not only in training but also, John had felt it, for Jedikiah's approval. The agent's trust and – yes, affection, though it had taken long for John to admit that to himself – had been the first thing he had ever fought for. Something worth pain, fear, defeat.
Home.
Until they made him a monster. On his own accord.
John closed his eyes, blending out what he had found to be his home for the past seven years. He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.
At first he had thought it would be enough to provide safety, but it hadn't. Then he had given them hope, hope that one day they wouldn't have to satisfy themselves with what he gave them.
Hope that he himself neither believed in nor needed.
Stop pretending you care about anyone else but yourself!
It wasn't like that, and John knew Stephen knew it wasn't. He did care for the Tomorrow People.
But he didn't understand them.
Being with Cara – being loved by her, by a woman so strong and so dedicated to life – had made him feel more normal. As if he could fit with the people around him. If it wasn't for her, John wasn't sure if he had ever spoken with Russell. She had brought them together, and somehow it had worked. The Asian kleptomaniac and the orphan killer had made up for a good team.
Up to this moment, Russell had not uttered a thought, left alone word against John's decisions of tonight.
He trusted him, and this trust weighed John down.
Almost as much as Stephen's obvious distrust.
Did he have to show up? Frustrated and tired, John slid the bottle forward and let go, opening his eyes just in time to see the glass shatter.
Pathetic. He was just becoming his own foster dad.
"Hey, no need to break the furniture… wall. Whatever."
"Yeah, whatever." His voice was choked but it was easy to bring on a crooked smile as he turned around. For a split second, Russell smiled back, then suddenly his glance dropped to the floor, as if he had just remembered he wasn't allowed to be happy with all that was going on.
It hurt to see him like that. Was that what life for the others had become down here? When had that started?
John felt his thoughts trailing towards Stephen again and forced himself to stop. Surely, life without their new prophet had been easier, but if it wasn't for him… Irene would be dead.
And Russell probably would never laugh.
"Irene's in hospital" Russell offered after a moment of uneasy silence, "Stephen said he stayed till he saw the nurses bringing her in."
"I know." John nodded, at once endlessly tired. "He did a good job."
"You think?" Russell's relief was obvious. He hated his friends fighting, like a child torn between arguing parents.
Family. All John had ever wanted, all they all wanted. Family, and a life to share it with them.
Coward.
Stephen was right. Had been right all along.
"Yes." John buried his face in his hands but Russell's face remained before his eye. Danny's face. Alison's and Max', Joshua's. Irene's.
He laughed joylessly. Stephen's.
Cara's face.
His family.
Cara?
John? The voice in his head was strained, tense. We need to talk.
I know. John stood up. Just give me a moment. And, Cara -
What?
It wasn't your fault. He sensed her desperate wish to believe him, but also the disappointment at what she felt was his betrayal. Maybe he was losing her.
And this, he couldn't blame on Stephen.
I'll be back soon.
Where are you going?
"What are you gonna do?" Russell echoed loudly.
"What I should have done before." John looked through the room as if expecting to see Stephen, but he had gone home after delivering the news about Irene.
Home.
"I'll go up, checking on Irene. Make sure they don't find anything suspicious in whatever probes they take."
"And if they do?" Cara walked up and stood next to Russell whose expression was half relief, half worry.
John swallowed, then forced himself to meet her burning gaze. "Then I'll change them for human ones. Can't be too hard to find in a hospital."
"Alright!" Russell slapped him on the back. "But take care, will you?" Sensing the tension he quickly left, leaving it to Cara to wait for an answer. When none came, she repeated: "Will you?"
"You know I will." John's voice showed his exhaustion. "And when I'm back, let's talk." This time he waited for a reaction.
Cara.
What happened to us? She looked past him now, as if she no longer had the strength to look at him. John, what happened?
I don't know. Everything. Hiding Stephen's name on his mind proved easier than he would have thought.
The time would come to discuss Stephen Jameson, his plans and his meaning for all of them, but not now. Now he had to fight for his family – and yes, for himself not to lose them.
"She'll make it."
Cara snorted. You say that for my sake or for your own?
John sighed. "Try to sleep. I'll be back."
He would not give up on either of them.