A/n: I have randomly decided to continue my earlier fanfiction, 'Lonely Captive'. So yeah, here it is. Also warning, bit of whats probably counted as medium to high level swearing in one bit of this... just so you know. I usually avoid, but needed it here for tone. Or something fancy like that... enjoy the fic!
Returning
"There's an S22 out there!" Mahad exclaimed, dashing into the tavern, and nearly knocking over someone's drink as he skidded to a halt in front of Cortes.
"What?" the bloc's Captain stood up, suddenly not so interested in just relaxing in the tavern.
"Yeah… it's not doing anything though… just sitting there in the docking line up…"
Cortes mused for a moment. "If it's not attacking… it might not belong to the Sphere…"
"It's an S22!"
Cortes glared at Mahad for a moment. He was overreacting a little. But he was doing so loudly, and that seemed to be upsetting some of the tavern's occupants. The arrival of anything associated with the Sphere normally made anyone on Puerto Angel nervous.
"I know, Mahad. You're right; we need to check it out." He walked past Mahad, heading out the door, and the boy followed behind him.
"How…?"
"If it's in the docking line up, the traffic coordinator has probably communicated with the pilot…" On that note, Cortes began heading towards the communications tower, tucked away in one of the corners near the door to the Saint Nazaire's dock. At certain times of year, the docks could get quite crowded, and many ships came into Puerto Angel. Chaos could easily ensue, with ship's fighting over the same dock, or wanting to leave or enter at the same time, so everything needed to be coordinated.
As they walked up to the communications tower, they could both see the line-up of flight-enable vehicles outside Puerto Angel. The S22 was waiting on the end.
"It's flying a little oddly too…" Mahad pointed out. "Like the pilot can't keep it steady…"
Cortes nodded. He'd observed this himself.
Suddenly, the S22 jerked to the side, as if attempting to dodge around the ship in front of it.
The other ship, a beat up looking bus with thrusters attacked, blared its horn loudly.
The S22 swung back to its position, and then revved its engines. Its forward weaponry powered up for the briefest of moments, but then powered back down.
Cortes growled, and grabbed his radio from his hip. "I don't give a damn if that's a Sphere ship or not…" he held the radio up to his mouth. "Get stationary weapons on that S22, and send him a warning!"
"I've given him plenty already!" a female voice came from the radio, sounding very much on edge. "He keeps wanting to cut… I said wait your bloody turn!"
By this time, they'd reached the tower, and Cortes pushed open the door.
"…there are weapons trained on your ship, shut down your weapons, and your thrusters…" The woman at the controls looked flustered, and was shouting into her radio, obviously connected with the misbehaving pilot. "You're flying an S22; we have to run checks…"
"I know what the fuck I'm flying!" the radio squawked back. "Now let me dock the fucking ship; I need medical attention! I need to dock!"
"Is that…?" said Mahad, thinking he recognised the voice.
Cortes was already over at the traffic coordinator's console, taking the radio off the woman. "It's alright…" he said as she looked up at him wondering what he was doing. He activated the radio. "Christophe?"
The radio was quiet for a brief moment; the only noise heard was static.
"… Aran…?"
"Yeah, it's me…"
"I…" Christophe's voice was now in sharp contrast to the anger he'd shown before. "I need to dock…"
"Are you alright?"
"No!" Christophe shouted back, angry again, but this time his voice was strained like he was almost in tears. "Let me dock the damn ship! Please?!"
"Let him use the dock outside my house…" said Mahad, now standing behind Cortes. "With the Hyperion gone…"
Cortes nodded; it would be really difficult to get the S22 past all the other ships, especially after the aggression it'd already shown.
"Christophe, can you see the dock to your left? It's outside a house, a few hundred meters from the Saint Nazaire…"
"I think so…"
"Christophe, its Mahad… I'm going to run down there and wave you in, okay?" said Mahad over Cortes' shoulder. He then dashed out the tower door, down the stair, and jogged towards the front of his house.
Cortes watched out the tower window. The S22 was now slowly, though unsteadily, spinning its rear towards Mahad. It shuddered slightly, seemed to almost stop, but then kept going again.
Cortes bit back the instinct to activate the radio again and ask if his brother was doing alright. He guessed he may need to concentrate, just from the movements of the ship.
"Can you make sure he gets in alright…" he told the woman, handing her back the radio.
"Captain… I'm sorry… but he was being aggressive and the S22…"
"It's alright, you were just following procedure," said Cortes, still watching the S22. "Talk to him if he's really having trouble…"
Cortes left the tower, and jogged towards the dock, his heart pounding in his chest. What have you gone and done this time, Christophe? Cortes barely admitted to himself that he was scared; Christophe had sounded really distraught over the radio. Cortes hadn't been sure how he would react to seeing his brother again, especially after what Christophe had done with the Callisto. Cortes had been confused. But now that worry seemed secondary. He didn't care how he reacted; he just wanted to make sure his brother was okay.
Remembering what Christophe had said, Cortes quickly grabbed up his radio. "Can I get a medical team down to the dock in front of Mahad and Lena's house… Yes, now!"
He ran up beside Mahad just as the S22 came into alignment with the dock. The ship then overshot just a little bit and bumped up against the concrete. It stopped there, poorly parked, and did nothing more.
Cortes walked up to the back of the ship.
"He needs to open the door…" said Mahad, when nothing happened.
Cortes gritted his teeth. The ship was close enough that he could get up to the side of the hull without need of the ramp. He did so, and found the exterior door release. "Move, Mahad…" he growled.
The ramp hissed down, revealing the cargo area of the S22. There were blast marks up the wall, and a deactivated Brig lying on the floor, a blast mark in its chest.
Cortes winced, and climbed onto the ramp and inside. He activated the lift.
Mahad climbed onto the ramp after him, but the Captain had activated the lift so fast Mahad had to wait.
The lift carried Cortes to the top of the S22. The first thing to hit him was the smell. The cockpit smelt of blood, death, and urine. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and rested for the briefest of moments on the body of a man lying on the floor. He stepped over it to the side of the pilot's seat, to the slumped form seated in it.
"Christophe…?" Cortes put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and felt him shudder.
Christophe still gripped the ship's controls in his fists, and was practically sprawled across the console.
Cortes kept his hand on his shoulder, and pushed one of the controls so that the ship was shut down properly and Christophe couldn't accidently move it.
"Aran…" Christophe groaned, trying to push himself back up. He got almost halfway upright before he let out a cry, cringing and gripping back onto the controls.
"It's okay… you don't have to move…" Cortes gently pried his brother's hands from their grip on the controls.
Christophe gripped onto Cortes' sleeve instead. He was shaking even worse now, and his breath was coming in gasps close to sobs.
"It's okay…" Cortes said again. "Just hang on; the medical team's coming…"
Christophe clung to Cortes' sleeve tighter, his fingers scrunching the material and dragging Cortes' arm towards him.
Cortes stopped resisting, and let his brother cling to the front of his jacket. His body felt hot, like he was running a fever, and he was drenched in sweat. Cortes pulled him closer, careful to avoid the sliver or metal he'd suddenly noticed sticking out of his brother's leg.
Damn it…
Christophe cried, his face buried in his brother's jacket. He had expended all his energy just getting the ship into dock, and his body was simply too exhausted to allow him to do anything else.
"It's okay…" Cortes said for the third time, completely unable to think of anything to comfort the shuddering man in his arms. He just kept his arms around him, supporting him, and waiting for the medical team to arrive.
----
"Cortes, are you alright?" The Vector found the Captain in Puerto Angel's hospital, sitting on a bench outside an operating theatre, his arms resting against his knees, and staring hard at the floor. Mahad had come to the lighthouse and told him what had happened, and he had only now made it down to the hospital.
Cortes glanced up. "Yeah…" he said. "I'm fine…"
He seemed a little subdued, and confused. But not as upset as the Vector supposed he could be.
"How's Christophe?"
"I don't know…" Cortes admitted, turning to stare back at the floor again. "He was a wreck when I got to him. He had a pretty big piece of metal stuck in his leg they had to get out… but I'm sure he's been in that ship for days… that could be infected and causing all sorts of problems… I don't know what else might be wrong with him…"
The Vector rested a hand on Cortes' shoulder.
"The Sphere did that to him," Cortes growled, "I don't know what exactly, but I know it was them."
"Just relax. He'll be out in a bit."
Cortes drew in a breath. "I know."
The Vector stayed by his side quietly for a few moments, then eventually Cortes spoke again.
"I need to tell him I'm sorry for how I acted last time he was here… he has to be okay…"
The Vector sighed. "I told you, Cortes. You have nothing to apologise for. Right now, I think Christophe just needs you to be there for him. And you're doing that now..."
At that moment, the door to the operating theatre cracked open, and one of the nurses walked out.
Cortes stood up. "How is he?"
"It's okay," the nurse reassured him. "We've taken out the metal. He's just sleeping now."
"But is he going to be okay?" Cortes asked again, this time a little more forcefully.
"For now, he's fine," the nurse said, carefully. "He has a good chance of recovery. But he needs to rest. We're not exactly sure how long that metal was in his leg, but it was long enough. It's infected, but we've given him antibiotics. Provided he rests, and his body fights, then, yes, he is going to be okay."
"And if his body doesn't fight it?" Cortes asked, not to be deterred.
"His body should fight it… there's every chance it will… but… Well, if he can't, we may have to amputate his leg."
Cortes drew in a breath, and looked at the floor.
"That's the worse case though… we're pretty sure he'll fight it."
"Cortes…" said the Vector, putting his hand on the man's shoulder again. "It'll be alright, you don't need to dwell on it."
"How is he otherwise?" Cortes asked.
"The Sphere had him… he's probably been tortured. He has some energy burns, and he's probably been subjected to a lot of Seijin energy. Again, he just needs to rest. The only real worry is his leg."
Cortes nodded. "Alright… can I…?"
"We'll bring him out in a moment," the nurse smiled slightly. "We'll get him into a bed, and you can stay with him if you'd like. But let him rest; he'll be out for a good twelve hours anyway."