On Broken Wings

Chapter 2

Three facts about Matthew Griffin in no particular order:

1. He was the reigning champ in his village's poker games

2. While not normally one to wear jewelry, a gray gem hung on a cord around his neck

3. It was his personal mission in life to ensure that nobody hurt his family and got away with it

Which was why Chase almost – almost – didn't see it coming when the older Griffin cornered him behind the farm house under the guise of getting him to collect a spare tire for Tyler's jeep.

"What the hell happened out there?" Matt hissed sharply, one hand coming up to grab the front of Chase's black hoodie as he pushed him backwards.

The New Zealander would have responded, except that he was still reeling from the other fist in the wall not two inches away from his face. To be fair, he did just witness a complete one-eighty from the calm brother who had carefully carried his younger sibling into his room, to the embodiment of barely-contained rage that now stood before him. Matt was practically shaking with anger, and Chase knew that if the five of them hadn't finished Devashi off, he would have personally gone down to Amber Beach to fight the monster himself.

And win.

Recounting the battle made Chase's stomach churn, and the fact that Matt's fist came progressively closer to his head with each punch in the wall wasn't helping at all. The taller male was glaring at the ground by the end of it, looking away in a manner so similar to the way Riley had in the hospital. For all they loved to bicker and banter with each other, they truly were brothers.

"He'll be okay, right?" It wasn't a question, it was a threat, a promise.

"Physically, yeah." Chase slumped heavily against the barn, letting his head fall back with a dull thump on the hard wood. "His arms will recover, but I'm not sure if he will."

Silence fell between them. The black ranger thought about Riley, about how he had turned into a shell of his usual self, how he hadn't even looked at them or said goodbye as Matt closed the door to his room behind him (not before Rubik managed to scurry inside, ears drooped and whining pathetically).

"You're not staying," Matt said, and Chase's sad smile confirmed what he already knew. Amber Beach was already down a ranger. It couldn't afford to lose another, and there was no way his mother could manage the farm and take care of Riley on her own at the same time. "Riley has to withdraw from the team."

"I know."

"He needs to heal on his own time. He'll come back when he's ready."

"I know."

There was so much resignation in Chase's voice that Matt couldn't help but sigh with pity. He took off his cowboy hat and flipped it over absently. "You call him every day, you hear?" The hat swiftly returned to his head as Chase looked up in surprise. "And I don't care how far the city is, you better visit every weekend too," he added before Chase could reply.

Sniffing lightly, the dark-haired male nodded and pushed himself upright, following Matt as he beckoned him towards the storage shed.

:: Kendall tells me your Dino Com is receiving these messages, so I guess you're just choosing not to answer. That's okay though. I'm still going to send one every day. ::

True to his word, Chase arrived at the Griffin's doorstep at two in the afternoon every Saturday. It was late enough that Mrs. Griffin wouldn't have to prepare lunch for him, yet early enough for him to spend at least a solid four hours with Riley before heading back to Amber Beach.

Matt still hovered around them like a shadow, ever the protective older brother, but at least he'd stopped eyeing the New Zealander suspiciously whenever he looked at him. Nevertheless, Chase knew that one wrong move on his part (or a bad reaction on Riley's) and he would be getting up close and personal with the hooves of the cowboy's favorite horse.

The first few weeks were the hardest. Riley hardly ever left the safety of his room, not even to join his family during meals. He isolated himself, avoiding anyone and everyone around him. There was a perpetually empty look in his eyes, as though his mind had been disconnected from his body and the rest of his surroundings.

Some days Chase would just sit next to him in silence, hoping that his company would be enough to stave off the loneliness for a while. Rubik seemed to have made a permanent home for himself at Riley's feet, but he had a feeling the canine wouldn't mind sharing.

Other days the New Zealander would talk out loud, holding a one-sided conversation he knew would not be reciprocated. If he was lucky, Riley would respond with a soft grunt, perhaps a non-committal hum. It was small, but the brunet often stared off into space otherwise, listening (at least Chase hoped he was) numbly with quiet detachment, so he was willing to take what he could get.

With Riley's arms currently incapacitated, Matt and his mother had to give him practical support in his daily activities. Be it eating, showering, or even just combing his hair, the fact that Riley needed help in accomplishing such mundane tasks was doing a number on his pride. It was hard to pretend that he was okay, to treat him like he was not made of fragile glass. The subtle clench of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the downward curl of his lips all gave away his frustration at his helplessness.

Chase was around only once a week, but already he had lost count of the number of times he had to reassure Riley that there was nothing wrong with needing help, nor was it a sign of weakness for accepting it. The touches came gradually, from feathery light caresses ghosting along his back to an arm around his shoulders weeks later, keeping the brunet grounded, Chase's way of saying I'm still here, it's okay, you're safe now.

There was one humid afternoon where they were reading together in Riley's room, sitting on his bed with the younger teen in his boyfriend's lap. Riley started nudging Chase's knee with his foot about an hour in, murmuring something about a headache. Chase didn't hesitate when asked to retrieve some aspirin from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, happy that Riley was letting him help even with something as simple as this.

A few minutes later he returned visibly more subdued than when he had left, and he only pressed a quick kiss to Riley's cheek when given a questioning look, trying to act as though he hadn't seen the bottles of anti-depressants and sleeping pills which definitely hadn't been on the shelves the week before.

:: No pressure, but you know you can call us anytime, right? And you don't have to talk to me if – if you don't want to. You can go to Shelby, Koda, Ivan… Heck, even Keeper if you like. Who knows, he may have some ancient alien wisdom that can help. ::

The nightmares kept coming.

Some nights weren't so bad. Rubik was a constant, warm presence at his side when he slept, and the canine would immediately try to nudge him awake the moment his breathing started to speed up erratically, his mind at the brink of descending into the dark depths of his memories.

Other nights he was back on the ground with no way to get up, trapped, one large foot pinning his hands and another crashing down on his arms again and again and AGAIN –

– until his eyes snapped open to the sight of Matt or his mother (sometimes both) hovering worriedly over him, Rubik's weight on his chest to keep him from thrashing around too much, spikes of lingering pain in his arms, his ears ringing slightly from the echoes of Rubik's loud barking, his throat sore from screaming.

Then there were the nights when sleep eluded him, leaving him with his scattered thoughts as he stared at the ceiling just waiting for the nightmares to fall. Sometimes when the silence became too much to bear, he would replay the voice messages Chase had left on his Dino Com, listening to the familiar, accented voice that would lull him into calmness and hold off any impending panic attacks.

His fatigue still worried his family though. While his mother made sure that he ate and slept (or rather, went to bed) enough to keep up his energy, Matt would coax him outdoors for some exercise and sun. Riley was obviously in no position to help out with the chores around the farm (at least not until his arms healed), so all he could really do was take long walks with Rubik and occasionally feel somewhat vindictive when watching his brother getting tripped into the mud while feeding the pigs.

It was important for him to stay grounded, the doctor had said. Keep busy, have a structured schedule, stick to a daily routine, do activities he enjoyed. Matt dragging him out of his room and Chase visiting every Saturday slowly helped him to settle back into the rhythm of things, but something was still missing. Something with a familiar weight in his palms, something that made his heart race and his hands shake, something that was an integral part of him, yet it wasn't.

(At least not anymore.)

:: It doesn't matter if you want to call in the middle of the night. I promise I'll answer. I mean, you're giving me a legit excuse to be late for my shifts, so there's that. Seriously though, I don't mind. ::

:: Koda and Ivan just discovered the microwave the other day, and for some reason they won't stop calling it a 'mikrowaver'. Coincidentally, the café's supply of burger patties has been running low lately, not to mention the fire alarm's been going off more often than usual. Kendall's running out of ideas to keep them from disintegrating everything they can get their hands on. Any suggestions? ::

:: Someone donated a complete dinosaur fossil to the museum earlier this week. It needs to be cleaned up and studied before it can be displayed, but Shelby's been bouncing off the walls all day, so you can probably guess which dino it is. And you know how much Tyler loves selfies right? He tried to take one with the head while doing some ridiculous pose on a handstand, and let's just say he won't be able to sit down for a week now. Luckily for him the fossil wasn't damaged, or else Shelby would have probably castrated him or something. ::

:: Hey Riley, it's Shelby here. Chase, uh… He's out of commission for a bit, took a bad hit when we fought another one of Sledge's goons this afternoon. He'll be fine though, it's nothing too serious! Ms. Morgan thinks he should wake up tomorrow and be well enough to head over to the ranch. So don't worry, okay? Hope to hear from you soon. Take care! ::