Chapter 10: Disasters

Lena kept her eyes to the edge of the table as the couple asked a few questions about what she liked and disliked in parents and what sort of family dynamic they should have. They certainly seem serious about keeping me… She should have been excited, but the only thing she felt was the nervousness in her gut and her own shaky breathing.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" the young man asked her, his smile gentle and still, like snow on a windless day. She looked up, unsure how to answer. If I say yes, will they say no? Her feelings for Castiel had grown in the months they'd spent relearning each other, but he had not mentioned a relationship except in passing.

"No, but if you would allow me…there is someone." Her ears burned. This seemed to satisfy the man's curiosity. They nodded at each other, and stood up. The interview was over. Lena bit her lip and stood up as well to leave.

As she walked out of the double doors of the little building, she saw the couple talking to the headmistress. It looked like a very serious conversation. Maybe they will adopt me. Maybe everything will be perfectly fine. She tried to calm her breathing and keep tears from spilling down her cheeks.

Or maybe they will make me move. Maybe everything will not be okay.

…

That night, Lena had decided to at last sleep at the orphanage. The weekend had come, and there had been no escaping the aids and various counselors as they cajoled her teachers and her director in Theater Production to let her go during the two days. She would have gone anyway, since Emitt and news of Three Snakes was now centered round her home of two years.

Castiel had been reluctant to let her go, for her safety's sake, of course. "Call if anything happens," he'd commanded, and she fully intended to let him know about anything suspicious. Now, he paced in his dormitory. Lysander had retreated to the music room to compose something, possibly for Violette, so he was undisturbed, left to his thoughts.

What if the gang went after her, specifically? She was strong and fast, but they were bigger, and one caught limb could mean death for his dear friend, the one who had gotten closest to his heart in the past year. She was no match for someone three times her size, with a gun.

He had opened his radio app on his phone and was listening to the news, waiting for trouble. There was a traffic report, and a few commercials, but nothing big, except a crash on some freeway. Then…

"There's a fire at the St. Cecelia Orphanage, origin unknown… Several severe burn cases…"

That was all he needed to hear. He grabbed his jacket and practically flew out the door, leaving his phone still blaring the news.

Outside, a few lingering students gazed up at the pillar of ash and cinders that rose from the building just blocks away. He ran for the gate, jumped it, and sprinted all the way to the fire, coughing on smoke as the wind blew it in his face.

Crackling and the crashes of support timbers mingled with the spray of hoses, crying children, and the roaring hiss of the inferno itself. Castiel shoved through the crowd and ducked under the tape.

"Hey, kid, get away from there! You could die!" He heard, but did not obey.

Think I don't know that? Lena could be in there, with her stupidly self-sacrificing morals, trying to rescue someone… He took a quick look around the multitude of faces, and did not see her. She was inside the burning building.

He ran through the collapsed doors and up the stairs, jacket over his nose and mouth. There was hardly any oxygen, but the fire was still going, sucking fuel from the outside. Hot air buffeted him from all sides, and as he entered the first room, a jet of flame singed his pant leg.

He glanced around through smoke-blurred eyes. There was a table in the corner, just past an unstable plank floor. A hand showed from under the tablecloth, sooty, small, and slightly burnt. The heavy tablecloth protected the person inside from the fire, but for only so long.

Lena… He ran across the cracking floor and grasped the cloth, pulling the unconscious girl out from under it. The heavy material had been soaked with water from a barrel of emergency water, as had the floor around it. His breath hitched as smoke billowed about him and he viewed the damage. A small child, a boy, was clutching her shirt, crying and hacking on the stifling environment.

But her face… She had probably run through fire and caught up the little boy. The skin of her right cheek was burnt from her temple, across her cheekbone, and down her jaw. Castiel struggled no to retch at the smell. If his eyes had not been watering already, he would have cried for her.

Someone yelled through a loudspeaker for him to jump out the window, that there was a trampoline below for him. Ladies first. With a grunt, he hauled the girl up to the windowsill. The boy let go of her, crying. Then he looked at the net one story down and silently apologized for any bruises the fall caused.

He watched her body fall away through the sparks and cinders, head lolling. Then he threw the traumatized boy out after her.

Behind him, a support beam splintered and crashed through the floor. The planks beneath him began to shift. He took a leap of faith after his love.

…

A slow, steady beeping sound filled Lena's ears. There was a dull, itching throb on the right side of her face, and she found it difficult to open one eye, as if something was half-covering it. The air was cool and sterile, and tinged with chemicals. A glance to her right revealed a very disheveled Castiel with a burnt smell clinging to him.

He was asleep, neck bent at an awkward angle.

"Your neck is going to stick like that, you know." He lifted his head, yawned, and looked at her a little sadly.

"Your face is going to stick like that too…" His eyes did not meet hers, and she suddenly felt weak with worry. "I'm sorry."

A trembling hand reached up to palm the bandaged side of her head. Her fingertips met gauze caked with pus and dried blood. I… I'm damaged. The tears that oozed from her right eye stung the raw skin, making her scrunch up her face in pain. What will I look like once these bandages come off? A monster?

Castiel pressed the button for the nurse, and she came quickly. Lena bit her lip and winced when it stun more than she was used to. Her lips were quite parched. She turned to the nurse as far as she could with tubes sticking out of one wrist and both nostrils.

"When will I be out?" It hurt to talk.

"In about two weeks."

"Dammit!" Castiel flinched. He had never heard her curse before, even mildly as she did now. It was her vehemence, too, that startled him. Then she did her best to calm herself and asked that the nurse leave them.

He took her hand. She stared straight forward, trying to stem the tide of tears and failing utterly.

"Do you know if that couple will adopt me now?" He was silent for a moment.

"No." She squeezed his hand and blinked rapidly, trying to stop her eyes from smarting.

"Find out for me, will you? Ask one of the aides, they should have my records saved somewhere."

"What if they want to break it off after this?" She didn't answer, but slowly let go of his hand and looked up at him. He knew the answer already. She would be moved to another facility in another city, far away, and have to change schools yet again.

…

Emitt viewed the burnt shell of the orphanage from the top of a neighboring building. Firefighters were still soaking the charcoal and ash in case any embers survived a day later. His eyes narrowed.

"Are you happy now, Ora? Your old home is gone, its workers displaced, and its children traumatized." His icy tone thoroughly conveyed disapproval. He could stand a bit of vandalism and thievery, but making victims of innocent children went against his deal-oriented morals.

He had become a spy against Lena and her friends for a steady income and a job that didn't involve sitting down. He loved the fight-or-flight situations and the constant exercise, but not true savagery. Ora, the leader of Three Snakes and a former foster child herself, stretched languidly, making full use of the extra space in her loose shirt and shorts.

"Come now, Emitt, my dear. You should be happy, you've truly lived up to your name!" Her voice was rough and low, damaged by childhood bronchitis. Her pretended charisma was quite irritating. Emitt's fists tightened.

"Just because my name is Larson doesn't mean I literally start fires and injure innocent people." He turned away from the scene and stood over her, eyes flashing with anger. She was a tall lady in her prime, outwardly a model and inwardly a sociopath. Her hair billowed about in light waves almost to her knees, and equally light eyes looked up at him with false innocence.

"Oh, but you just have," she purred, low voice sending cold fear down his spine. She was a manipulative killer, and he knew that now. One of the members had disobeyed orders, and she had snapped his neck without batting an eye, then threatened him with the same fate should he go against her in deed.

He turned to go, a deep snarl marring his otherwise smooth features. He halted when she spoke again. "Did you check on that little rat Lena?" He did his best not to say the first thing on his mind, for it could leave him dead on the rooftop and no one would know. "You should have seen her face during that fire, darling. She'll have some lovely new marks to add to her acne."

Emitt darted down to the ground floor, Ora's laughter ringing in his ears.

…

Violette stopped by the hospital to see Lena after her drawing class had finished. In her hand she clutched her newest sketch, now painted with watercolors and boldly outlined in the finest pen. It had taken her a day to complete it, but it would be well worth it.

She had heard the news of Lena's injuries and felt responsible for them. Lena would never have gotten involved with Three Snakes and their trouble if not for her carelessness. If those thugs had not caught her at the beginning of the year, her friend would not be in the hospital now.

She stepped into the hospital room, trembling a little. She's not the kind to blame others for her misfortune, right? "H- hello."

Lena turned over to look at Violette, who tried not to gasp. After a day of changing bandages, the doctor had decided that she had healed enough to go with only a small gauze pad and some antibiotics over the wound. It would heal by exposure and gradual removal of the excess dead skin. Violette knew all this, and still could not look upon the injury without blanching.

She would never go into the medical field. Lena smiled at her, as brightly as she could with her face hurting as if it had been attacked by a swarm. "Hi."

"How is it here?" The girl in the bed snorted.

"The food's horrible- completely bland."

"I brought something for you." She handed over the drawing and waited for an opinion, just as her teachers always gave her. Lena's jaw trembled, as did her hands. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and thanked Violette for coming over, but she was tired and needed to be alone.

After Violette left, a little embarrassed that her gift seemed to upset the recipient, Lena ran her fingers along the edges of the sketchbook paper and absorbed the image, sealing it in her brain.

It was portrait of herself and Castiel, sitting together on a wall of stone in the middle of a green field. She was on the right, so her good side showed, and was smiling with all the happiness and freedom of one in love. Castiel held her hand with uncharacteristic gentility, and smiled back.

It was the picture of contentment, of that which she wanted most dearly.

It was the picture of what seemed could never be.