Author: Taisia Kuno
Title: We Can Be Heroes: Part Two: Recuerde la muerte en Isla Sorna
Fandom: JP3
Pairing: Alan/Billy
Rating: R for now
Warnings: Slash of course, m/m fun stuff
Spoilers: Of course
Series: Yes, this is 2:13
Summary: A novel written from boredom about the relationship Alan and Billy have before, during and after JP3. I have beta tested this myself and have had friends read this so this is as accurate as possible. Basically, it's just my thoughts and my ideas with a bit of creativity towards the last part. Also, thank you for all who have commented! I don't update unless I get some comments! So if you wanna see where this goes, drop me some love! 3
Disclaimer: Don't own a lick of the characters and please don't sue me for that. But also, if this pairing isn't for you or hell, homosexual stuff isn't for you either, please don't e-mail me or leave me comments else wise. Just skip it and go on. Isn't that the polite thing to do?
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Part Two: Recuerde la muerte en Isla Sorna
Chapter 13
The air turned acrid, sour with warm fog but thick with the musk of the plants in the early morning was enough to wake Alan from a fitful sleep, short and full of the nightmares once left behind. Between the smell and the random sounds of birds and the other inhabitants of the island, no matter how tired he was, Alan's return to sleep would be postponed until a later time. The Kirby's were up and about, noisily making their rounds within a 20 foot radius of Alan's resting form. Eric maintained himself on a log, listening to his parent's commotion but vigilantly listening for anything outside of the normal while Alan slept. The change in him was visible when Alan sat up since the pressure of watching out for everyone was now lightly lifted off the youth's shoulders.
"What time is it?" asked Alan, rubbing sore bones from back to neck and looking toward Eric for answers. He checked his watch, tapped it a few times to make certain it was correct, then responded an unthinkable time.
"It's only a little past 6 in the morning. We only slept for a few hours," said Eric while his parents moved closer to the group now that another adult was awake and discussion toward heading to the coast could be advanced. Alan had no desire to talk to them just yet so with a no words, he stood and walked away without so much as looking back or telling where he was heading. Actually, he had no idea where he was going but as long as it moved him away from reality, he was fine with wherever his feet took him. The stench followed and grew stronger but was discovered to be a dead stegosaurus some 30 feet in the distance. He watched it carefully, noticing how the skin seemed to move and being mildly disgusted when he realized that the skin movement was actually a large group of compies crawling and picking at the dead monster. Worse still was realizing his own hunger and not being able to do much about it.
Stomach pains and headaches couldn't take his mind off Billy for very long and just about everything brought the younger palaeontologist into his mind. Alan held the bag tightly without breaking the eggs within, his hands peeling and playing with the old duct tape that barely held the bag itself together. If not for the putrid smell of the dead animal and the wretched plants disturbing his nose, Alan almost wondered if any part of Billy's spicy and familiar smell would linger on the strap.
The sooner I get back to the real world, thought Alan, the better. He thought this but the reality of returning brought forth the problems revolved around Billy's death. The funeral with no body in a casket, the hatred of Billy's family toward him, and the questions risen by anyone in regards to the island and how the fatalities happened. Not to mention Ian's reactions; oh lord would they be hellish.
"Dr. Grant? You ok?" asked Eric, sent by his parents as the best candidate to talk to Alan but not without them being too far behind. Ana looked over his shoulder, clenched the bag tight to his chest once more, then stood knowing that any time alone was now cut unbearably short. Eric dug around in the long pockets of his inGen jacket, pulling out a couple candy bars that were a little soft from being slept on and from the humid weather.
"Breakfast?" Eric offered one bar to his parents to share and one for Alan and himself, though the idea of chocolate was upsetting to Alan's stomach. All the fuel they seemed to be running on was sugar and honestly, the moment they crashed from the high would be a moment when they couldn't afford a crash. But he ate his half of the bar silently and thankfully to Eric because food was food, no matter what it did to the system. It was better than being sick through their last trek of the journey or at least what Alan hoped would be the last trek.
"I think we're getting closer to the water," said Eric while pointing upward to the sky, "I noticed this morning some black headed seagulls flying overhead. I think if we keep heading to the south we should hit the coast." Alan agreed, walking along side Eric and watching him maneuver himself through the undergrowth of trees and pushing past various bushes. The adults behind them spoke frequently but softly; knowing that being silent around Alan was probably the safest way to be. Acting this way only annoyed Alan more because he wanted more than anything to have an excuse to yell at them with all the pent of anger and frustration he had toward the entire situation.
The situation quickly worsened but without the knowledge of the group moving vigorously toward their savior ocean. Several yards behind them but not close to losing their track were hunters of unbelievable prejudice, wanting back their children and to spill blood of whomever took them away. But they would wait, wait until the area would prove fruitful for an ambush.
Alan was first to notice the shift in terrain from thick vegetation and heady dirt to the sliding feel of sand underfoot. It felt good to slide a little and to smell the familiar salt of the ocean. Ironic as it was that Alan was lucky to see the ocean maybe three times a year, the idea of being away from a dank jungle and onto the crisp and clean ocean of Costa Rican islands made Alan all the more thirsty for the coast.
Along with the sand shifting underfoot, the vegetation lightened as well as the fog, revealing a sunnier day with more promises than that of a foggy one. The smell was fainter now, wafting forth the smell of salt and sea instead of that of rotten flesh. Eagerly they continued to move, unsure as to what waited for them past the trees ahead but certain it was better than anything that followed behind. They were far too right for the moment the clearing grew in size, from behind their hurried steps grew the swift yet thundering noises of the raptor clan advancing, chasing them down until hope was lost.
The lead female attacked first by jumping on Alan's back, pressing him down to the earth without him knowing how or why he was suddenly meeting with the ground. He was winded, gasping for breath but inhaling only sand and the raptor's scent, hearing only the screams of the family he was sure would be dead far before he knew the pleasure. But their whimpers and gasps continued on past his expectancy and, as his breath returned, he realized as well that nothing was happening save for a heavy beast standing on his legs and nuzzling at his back and sides. Venturing a glance nearly got him killed but he saw enough to see that no one was in immediate danger: the raptors were circled around the family and the female was prodding still at Alan's body.
"She wants the eggs," whispered Alan only to receive a hiss from the mother above as if she knew exactly what he had said and was responding in turn. But with her atop him he was unable to reach the bag laying idle at his side and each time he tried to move his hand to reach, she would nip at him, ripping into his arm and digging her long claw into his calves.
"Dr. Grant..." said Amanda with a frightened voice but one that seemed closer than it had been. Alan opened his eyes and saw her close, closer than the others but not without the watchful eye of the mother raptor. Yet the closer Amanda got to Alan and the out of reach camera bag containing her children, the raptor would tighten her grip on Alan's body and making the sand around his legs and back red with bloody puddles. Where Amanda gained the strength and courage to act was beyond Alan but he heard, faintly, the bag unzip and the eggs pulled out and nestled on the warm sand. Each of the raptors began to call out excitedly and a few came forward to take the eggs away but a few stayed behind, including the mother remaining atop Alan. Like alligators to their young, those who held the eggs did so with great care but not without remaining threatening to Paul and Eric. Amanda had scrambled back to her group on hand and knee with Alan remaining still underfoot.
You're going to die.
No I'm not.
Yes you are.
I can't. Not yet...
Really? What do you have to live for?
Alan can't help but bury his head into the sand, the small particles sticking to his sweaty forehead and the realization that something had been hurting him struck. The sand that entered his mouth gritted against his teeth and he seethed in pain but the mother raptor was relentless: she felt that the injustice suffered hadn't been repaid. Alan was certain he heard something like cloth ripping and a strange, wet sound followed by some sharper pains. Whatever was happening on his back, Alan was more than glad he couldn't see because in his current state, nothing good would have come of it.
The blood pumping heavily in his head made him miss the sound of the helicopter blades whirling and the stunned reactions of the normally collected raptors. But the weight lifted off his body and the sounds of scale-padded feet skirting toward the foliage was enough to make Alan raise up from the inherent danger to look around and see that the danger was nothing more than a memory left in the sand.
Eric kneeled next to the injured palaeontologist, putting the weight of his fourteen year old body under the older man's arm to help lift him from the red stained sand. He leaned against Eric and limped toward the two shocked parents, certain that he had died under the claws of the raptors. But an alive Alan, pent on making it to the ocean side that eluded them so long, wheezed out orders and was followed without argument. As they moved, the sounds of the whipping blades intensified but the sound also drifted away at the same time. Nearly all the sounds of the island disappeared in Alan's head and a nice, ambient white noise of nothing and the wind around him. All the wind was was his movements and the gentle air floating around his ears.
"Dr. Grant? Dr. Grant are you alright?" said Paul who noticed Eric drooping to his knees as Alan began to fall even if he was certain he was still moving. Another set of arms, Paul's arms, lifted Alan's body back to a standing position and the tired man closed his eyes and shuffled his legs mindlessly to and fro, producing some sort of motion. That's all that was expected of him right now and he was glad to produce it, something was soothing about the kinetic motion and the shifting sand under his feet. By the time opening his eyes became a necessity, the ocean was in vision and a thin, suited man stood on the horizon like an oasis or better yet, a sick trick of the poor tired and abused mind.
"Dr. Grant? Dr. Alan Grant? Are one of you Alan Grant of the University of Montana?" said the figment, making himself real through the megaphone. Alan thought his name was mentioned, thought it was Billy but realized it was too deep and Billy wouldn't call him Doctor... and Billy was dead, right? Yeah...
"He is! He's Alan Grant. He's seriously hurt and needs medical attention!" Paul said when they somehow made it to the skinny suited man while Alan had closed his eyes just once. The second became minutes against his will and knowledge... and what was this about he being seriously hurt? No, he was simply tired and sore; it was nothing a good night's rest wouldn't help. And maybe some Tylenol.
"I can tell by the wounds; how the hell did you guys survive?! Here, bring him onto the chopper. We have another soul on board already. We found him as soon as we arrived; he's lucky to be alive. But he's in far worse condition than the good doctor here..." said the man in a long rant, ducking the blades that were feet away from his head but feeling safer for doing so. Nothing the suited man said reached Alan over the whip of the chopper blades but he hardly cared about anything said as long as he was stepping into the metal casing of the helicopter; an odd comfort was found like stepping into your car after being in the cold for so long. Eric remained by Alan's side, scared to leave him alone too long in fear that he would fall. But even Eric found it hard to keep a grip and to maintain Alan when he saw who laid on the stretcher just a few feet within the chopper's hull.
"Dr. Grant... look..." Eric whispered, pointing forward and giving Alan a guide to look forward with. It took a moment to raise his head and open his eyes, focus on the white mass in front of him, and then realize that the six foot length was not just a stretcher. Billy laid, tightened under blankets and gauze blinking lazily with heavy eyes laden with medication and morphine. His arm was wrapped in a makeshift cast, his head bandaged so that only strands of his curly hair showed and a large and blood drenched bandage covered the back of his neck. Everything about him screamed pain and anguish but nothing made Alan more happy, more awake than to see his lover risen from the dead. Without the efforts of Eric or any of the others on board, Alan moved his pained legs to Billy's bedside and held onto his warm arm while feeling the flesh for reality. Alan lowered his head onto Billy's chest, releasing all the anguish and upset of the island into a single gasping cry that woke Billy from his stupor.
"Alan? You're a ghost aren't you?" Billy whispered, his single healthy arm trying to touch the hair of the man he was certain would be dead. The warm hand slid down from Alan's head to his cheek and Billy's smell, no matter how dirty or dusty he had become, was the most welcomed aroma Alan could ever take in. Alan grabbed Billy's hand and kissed his palm gently even if he couldn't stop the tears from coming, both from pain and from joy of Billy's life being spared from the hellish place.
"Dr. Grant, you need to be strapped in! Come on, we have a stretcher you can rest on," said the suited man after securing the small family into their seats and trying to aid Alan into the stretcher across from Billy. Alan hesitated by holding tight to Billy's hand and blankets so the suit gave him another minute to realize what was happening. From inside the helicopter, the sound of the blades turning intensified but Alan heard Billy clearly: each wheezing breath he took, every groan he made when he moved, and the soft sound to gain Alan's attention.
"Look what I found. I rescued your hat Alan. It's a little dirty..." Billy trailed off but the hat Alan had worn for years, surely lost from all the horror, was laying whole next to Billy's injured arm. Carefully, Alan lifted it up and chuckled at the irony of Billy finding it at all. What on earth was he thinking, grabbing Alan's hat when all that mattered was if he survived? Who cared about the stupid hat that was replaceable when Billy... the obvious was so much more important.
"Yeah, because that's what is important huh?" Alan laughed but choked on a sob because nothing could persuade him enough that Billy was there, looking at him with bloodshot eyes and a goofy smile influenced by the drugs. But any form of Billy being alive was better than the image of his head being held under, the beasts tearing at his body though Alan hadn't a clue how severe the wounds on Billy's body actually were. With Billy nodding off to sleep and most likely enable to remember a thing about his rescue or Alan even being alive. In fact, the next thought Billy would encounter would be intense pain he was suffering and how he had gotten to a hospital.
Alan's eyes drifted downward and he knelt on the cold metal until two men within the cockpit lifted him onto the adjacent stretcher and strapped him in for the long flight to the mainland of Costa Rica. But no matter the turbulence or the noise, Alan was sedated enough in his own painful stupor to not notice either. He and Billy would both wake, alive, on the tropical country away from the monsters and away from the terror. Eventually, time would be rectified and maybe the incident around Billy and Alan's relationship, the anger he had beamed onto his young lover, would be fixed and life would find its way back to simplicity, to normality, and, most importantly, back into the arms of a loving relationship.
Author's Note: I know what you're all thinking.
"Ok. You disappear for MONTHS, you update with only ONE chapter, and that chapter is short?! What the HELL author?!"
I'm sorry dear friends, I can't even BEGIN to tell you what has happened these last few months. I'll give you a brief summary: a)fiancé moved in b)room mate troubles part 2 c)school nutness d)a 112 page comic owning almost all my life and e)being pregnant. No, I kid. I'm not pregnant. I just wanted to be dramatic. But really everything else is happening. And we're planning on moving soon so we've been apartment hunting. But I'm here to say some good news at least. This is the LAST chapter of book two and YES, as of tonight, I have started book three, the final addition to We Can Be Heroes. I'm expecting chapter one of part three to be done by either this weekend or the next, depending on how much I want to do homework. So I hope I haven't lost TOO many fans and that you all forgive me for having all these things happen. Keep an eye out for We Can Be Heroes Part Three: Just For One Day!