Disclaimers: I do not own anything but the plot and the obviously original characters.
A/N: A constant source of inspiration for this story is this video .com/watch?v=pDPt2bSnFP0 . Also, I'm currently rewriting most of my stories and editing most of my stories so updates we'll not be consistent. I just hope to improve the stories without drastically changing what I've already plotted out. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. Review if you would like.
Also, the section that is fully in italics is a bit of a flash forward to the possibly future.
Summary: What if Tony was really as sick as Siva thought?
The room was terribly void of any human sound. The only thing that could be heard was of the mechanical; of the machines that were assisting a poor man whose body was weaker than his mind. The room was white with a small window allowing the sun to shine upon the man's face. Flowers were on his bedside wishing him the seemingly foolish up that he would return to be amongst the living.
This man wasn't dead. It was worse than death some believed. He was stuck in himself. He wasn't lost from the world for the people that knew him could find him. He was in a hospital bed being ever watched by the medical staff, by his friends and family, by his enemies…in hopes that he will one day wake up.
For once, he looked peaceful. It was like all the cares and burdens he had when sane and walking in the world were gone. The complications in his life didn't seem to exist. He was just himself, lying on a comfy hospital bed, mind withdrawn from its body, and strangely at peace.
He had many visitors over the time of his long rest. There were those that vented to him, those that cried for him to return to them, and those who just stayed as silent as he was and hold his hand. Many prayers were made for him. Songs were played and sung to him. No one that he knew wanted to believe that he was truly gone. After all, his body was here, his heart still beats, but his mind was nowhere to be found.
The disease that he strongly tried to hide had caught up with him. It had torn through the defenses he had. It no long remained dormant. It no longer remain liked a tornado inside of him. It took advantage of all the stress he had in his life, of all the emotions he bore, and of all the weakness he tried to overcome. The plague snared his mind from his body. It didn't take his life. He was still alive, but he wasn't living.
The illness that has long tormented was no longer trapped inside. Most of his secrets, his past, and his feelings concerning things were no longer trapped inside. No, this time as fate wrote – it was him that was trapped inside. For on the outside, it seemed that he was lost. But on the inside, he was dreaming of many things. In reality, he was not in peace. There are some things you can never escape.
At the moment, he was not meant to escape anything. He will remain trapped inside until his last breath is taken.
Jasper, sharpening his knives, watched with mild curiosity at the children that were playing in the yard. They were all running back and forth; laughter filling just about everyone's ears. Other adults were watching the kids playing. They were men and women of many ages enjoying a period in the day where they could not worry about their duties for The Family and just inhale the joy that only the younglings had.
He couldn't deny that their youth was appealing. Children were not incorruptible, but when they are as they are now – they were probably the most intellectual and honest people out there. The yard was always filled with the young. He could easily remember the day when he was like them; when he too was running around with his brothers, sisters, and friends. The only thing he cared about was enjoying life to the fullest.
But that didn't last. He only was a child at the age of two to four. It was when he got a wider vocabulary that who he truly was decided to overrun the notions of a child and change him. He stopped playing fully at age five. He instead chose to watch those he knew carefully; examining them with curious eyes. He was searching; always searching for something to find.
Crack. His keen ears caught the sound. It was a little fig that was broken. But it wasn't destroyed by a child. No, the step was too heavy and precise to be from a youngling. Step. His nose inhaled the deep, musky scent. His skin felt the light brush of air caressing it. Everything he sensed was familiar. He knew who it was.
"Father," he greeted without averting his eyes from children whom were now playing a game of tag with some adults while the remaining ones watched them and their surrounds with ever keen and protect stances. "I knew you would eventually turn up and come to see your Son."
Jasper did fiddle with the idea of eliminating his Father. It would be a difficult kill for Father was skilled in many arts and he had guardians just as skillful. But as one of his Sons, he was different. He had the power to outwit, out anything of anyone. He was not perfect, but he was as perfect as any man should be. He knew he held pride but it was with good reason. He ran on pure instinct. He ran on pure irrationality and rationality. He was the embodiment of a beast.
"I won't claim to know your intentions," Joseph started. He shifted his weight to the right. The younger man heard his Father's hands bury themselves in the pockets of the older man's jacket. "But what I do know is that you won't kill me or Brian…Anthony even more so."
The serial killer smiled and licked his lips slowly. His eyes had a deadly glint to them.
"The only people I don't kill are children. Just because you three are part of my family does not mean I won't dare to kill you," he replied slowly. He sheathed his knifes and placed him on the table besides him. Turning away from viewing the young, he looked to the old.
"My purpose is to take lives."
…
His heart has never beaten so slow in his life. His pulse didn't contradict his heart before but it was doing it now when it was clearly pulsing quicker than he felt his heart beat. The old sweat was drying on his skin while the newest forms of perspiration erupted from his glands onto all parts of his body. His palms were moistened, his lips cracking, and his eyes red from irritation.
The building seemed familiar to him even though he couldn't recall ever being there before. He clutched to himself; hesitant of following whatever urge was leading him. He tried to avert his eyes from the stairs, and tried to make his way toward the exit, but he couldn't. His instinct was calling to him; telling him to climb up the stairs.
He was frightened. Everything that dares to seem familiar or unfamiliar frightened him. All he wanted to do was forget the troubles that the world has brought. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to be free.
But he wasn't. It was as if something was trapped inside of him. It was burning him. It was freezing him. It soothed him and it pained him. It confused him so much. He didn't know what to do. And that urge started to get stronger. Before he knew it, he saw his legs step onto the stairs. He didn't know what was controlling his body but whatever it was made him walk up the many stairs with urgency.
As he climbed higher and higher, the urgency grew to the point of hysteria. What was going on, he thought to himself. Why was he so keen on reaching to the top? What would he find? Would it be the truth that he for so long desired to have? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had to keep going up.
A sudden flash entered his mind so suddenly that he stopped in his track. He no longer moved. He was just caught up on what he just saw in his head. It was some form of a shadow. He looked up at that last few levels of the building. And he saw it again. He saw the shadow climb up to the roof top.
He then decided to run. And run he did all the way to the top; chasing that soft shadow ahead of him. He climbed the stairs; forgoing any sense of rationality. He ignored the doubts and the insecurity. He just moved through instinct. Something was up there. He had to know what it was. He felt like it would – could free him.
He burst threw the door. He was finally up there. He was standing on the roof top gazing out into the mid-afternoon sky. He searched the floor with his keen eyes trying to find that shadow that dared him to follow it. But it was gone. All that was left was him and the top of the building.
What had just happened? Why was he up here? What purpose was him being up here; on a building he never knew existed? But he knew some of the answers. It was because there was some sort of familiarity about this building. As much as he couldn't remember having been up there before, he felt that he had been up there in some distant past.
Then the shadow appeared before him again. He tried to grab it but it slipped away. It glided so quickly and so smoothly away from the doorway and to the middle of the building. Then as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared. He looked about himself; analyzing the roof top. But nothing seemed to ignite a sort of familiarity to him.
Look down.
He didn't know whose voice that was because he was sure he was alone. But he did as he was told. He looked down at where he was standing. His eyes trailed from his feet to a few inches above his shoes.
Look up. Someone is watching you.
His head jerked up. He looked around to find no one on the roof with him. But he knew that the voice was leading him to where he needed to be so he continued looking for a place that someone could be watching him. He looked at every building; thinking about if it was him. Where would he be if he were watching someone stand directly where he was standing?
Then he felt something burn onto him. It was like some foreign, invisible bullet had struck him from the spot he decided would be where someone would watch him. He stepped back at the force of the imaginary projectile. He gasped for breath, clutched his stomach and his throat, and fell to his knees. What, he asked himself.
But as he looked down at the place he was previously standing in, he froze.
"Kate."
…
James instantly woke up after the nightmare ended. His eyes were filled with unshed tears. His palms were wet with perspiration and his heart was beating rapidly. He sat up and leaned against the frame of his bed. He was startled beyond belief of what he had just seen in his sleep. He was shaken for he felt that what he had dreamt would come true.
A sense of dread came over him. Something was going to happen to the one he trusted most. All he felt in that thing he dreamt was overwhelming sadness at the predicament that Lorne, his brother and best friend, was in. The worst part of it all was that he felt so helpless in the dream. He felt like he couldn't do anything to help his friend.
He was even more worried now then before. All he wanted was to protect those he loved; to watch over those who were under his care. But the promise of the future deemed that he would fail.
Uncertain about his own strength and worthiness, James slowly fell back asleep.
…
"What is your greatest wish, Anthony?"
The young boy smiled at his Father.
"To be free."
…
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TBC
End-note: I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter. Have a wonderful day/night!