Tragic Miscommunication
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Okay – So I've had to repost this...not fun...Sorry if you've already read...but maybe you'll enjoy a re-read?
Prologue
Close your eyes, and imagine your dreaming.
See the blood, the terror, the endless screaming.
Mark yourself; a symbol of shame
Of pain, of guilt, of selfish blame
Hate to hate, yet love too late
Ignorant victim of fortune and fate
Give yourself room to breathe
Before suffocating with mindless ease
And when you're gone; just a distant thought
No one will remember how hard you fought.
The machine beeped a steady staccato in the background, comforting only in that it broke the stifling silence of the whitewashed hospital room. It was a familiar environment, one met with contrasting thoughts and feelings. It may be a place of pain, suffering and death, but the hospital also meant healing and safety, a haven, that once reached, usually meant it's over and we're all still here.
Usually.
Sometimes however, it was just a place of sorrow and remorse, and today, sitting in the intentionally uncomfortable plastic lined chair, large tanned hand gripping the smaller, completely lax, colourless hand, he knew without a doubt that today's urgent dash to the hospital, however routine they had started to become, would forever rest in his mind as one of the worst days of his entire life.
His other hand, curled against a slim, blanket covered waist, convulsively tightened around the thin, crumpled sheet of paper, the white parchment showed creases and lines, indicative of having been scrunched up and then smoothed out repeatedly over the last several hours.
And when you're gone; just a distant thought
No one will remember how hard you fought.
Didn't he realise; hadn't they made it clear enough. Surely he knew that should anything ever happen to him, if they lost him, that nothing would ever be the same again.
No one will remember... more like, no one would ever forget, even for a second, days filled with reminders and memories and night with dreams and nightmares. What ifs, maybe's and if only's clouding the mind and actions, until finally, one by one, they joined him in the beyond.
"I want a full report, for the disciplinary hearing tomorrow, describing the entire incident, from the point you disobeyed my direct order, up to you nearly getting Ezra Killed...no, not at your desk, get the hell out of my sight, before I do something I don't think I'll regret. "
Without argument or disagreement, the younger man went into the interrogation room, head down; shoulders slumped in abject misery. As furious and disappointed as he was, the green eyes didn't leave his agents retreating back, until he was sure that the stupid idiot was safely ensconced within the secure room, still subconsciously ensuring the safety of those he cared about more than anything else in this world.
"Why he bothered I don't know, but Chris sent me in to check on you, and to tell you to get that report finished, we want to go see Ez at the hospital and we need to lock up, so you need to go home...did you hear a word I said? For god's sake, sit up when I'm tal...what the hell...Oh shit, Jesus Christ...hold on, hold on...oh god...CHRIS! CHRIS...NATHAN...I NEED SOME HELP...HURRY...OH FU...JD GET NATHAN! AND CALL AN AMBULANCE! Stay with me Vin, hold on...help is coming...my god, how the hell...stay with us...Don't die, Don't you dare die...you hear me you stubborn Texan son of a bitch? Stay..."
Blood spread across the table and soaked into the carpet, paper strewn about, with several attempts to write that godforsaken report, each more guilty and self accusing than the last, and one piece of prose, scrawled messily from a sad, hurt and confused heart.
Close your eyes, and imagine your dreaming.
See the blood, the terror, the endless screaming.
Mark yourself; a symbol of shame
Of pain, of guilt, of selfish blame
Hate to hate, yet love too late
Ignorant victim of fortune and fate
Give yourself room to breathe
Before suffocating with mindless ease
And when you're gone; just a distant thought
No one will remember how hard you fought
A/N—New Mag 7 piece by me, expect more soon. Review if you liked it. Review if you hated it. Review if you really didn't care. Review just to shut me up.