Chapter 7
Time Force Headquarters were under attack indeed. The once elegant and imposing white building now showed not-so-proudly a number of holes burnt through its walls, and an equal number of fires were lit inside.
Time Force officers, in patrols, on motorcycles or on their feet, ran from the building which was being evacuated. Three teams were trying to stop the menace.
Like Logan said, Ransik was there. But, since she had never been exactly problematic, Logan hadn't mentioned Nadira was by her father's side, and also, Jen's heart stopped for a second when she saw it; they were accompanied by what looked like the deluxe edition of Steelix, all made of gold.
"Is that Steelix?" Alex asked, parking his bike right across Jen's way, forcing her to stop at a considerable distance from the building.
"No, it's not," Jen said angrily, coming to a stop as well. "Steelix was all silver, that guy is golden." She tried to go around Alex and walk towards the building, but he held her by the waist.
"Where the hell are you going?" he asked her, pushing her back towards her cycle.
"To do MY JOB!!" she yelled angrily. "Now, get out of my way," she told him.
"Jen, wait, we need a plan, if this guy has any relation to Steelix, then this is way too dangerous for you," Alex told her, grasping her by the shoulders.
Angrily she shook him off, why was he treating her like a baby girl?
"I'm trying to protect you!" He told her, beginning to get a little angry himself. Apparently, she had sent the thought via telepathy.
"I don't need your protection!" she yelled at him. "Alex, I mean it, get out of my way," she repeated.
"Guys!" Lucas called for their attention. "Would you keep the marital discussions for home? Right now, Ransik and this Steelix wannabe are attacking our co-workers."
Jen and Alex both looked at him and then at the building that was under attack. "Alex," Jen said. "Please." Her voice was pleading, like it had been years ago when she had asked him to give Wesley his morpher back.
He took a deep breath and looked away from her. "All right, but be careful!"
************************
Jessica moved abruptly. Wes was still sitting next to her bed, reading some finance reports, judging by the blue paper they were printed on. On his lap laid a Human Resources report, printed on pink paper, and under that one, a Silver Guardians report, printed on gray paper. She moved abruptly again, and this time her husband noticed her movements.
"Jess? Do you need anything?" he asked her, but she seemed to be still asleep. "Jessica? You awake?" he asked softly.
Jessica opened her eyes and looked at him. She didn't want him to go, but she didn't want him to see her like this either, crying. "I'm having more problems breathing," she told him. It wasn't a lie, it was getting harder for her to breathe, and it would give her some time.
"Want me to call the doctor?" he asked standing next to her, caressing her arm.
"Please," she said. He nodded and left. Jessica took a breath as deep as she could and felt tears sliding down her cheeks.
The dreams were back. It had been a while since she had last dreamed about her father, about her childhood. About Phine, a nasty little voice in her head said.
"Phine," she whispered to the air. "I miss you so much."
"Who's Phine?" Wes asked, suddenly appearing next to her. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
"I want to go back to work," she said. "I'm tired of lying in bed." She was more scared of inactivity that anything else, because it gave her time to think, time to see inside of herself. And now she was dying, and she noticed, suddenly, as she look into his eyes, how badly she had been treating Wesley, the man she loved more than anyone else.
"You can't go to work yet. The treatment isn't over."
"The treatment is not working at all!" she snapped suddenly, provoking hard, dry coughing and tears. Tears that came due to the pain in her hoarse throat and from her hoarse heart.
"Jessica, it is working," Wes told her, worriedly. "It's just working very slowly, because you kept the disease from me for too long."
"I'm sorry," she told him, sobbing and coughing. Now the cough seemed perpetual, it almost never stopped. Every breath she took was expelled out at a tremendous speed. "I was taught to never bother my husband about anything."
"Who taught you that?" Wes asked. "It's medieval!"
"My mother," Jessica answered. "My parents were kind of 18th century-ish. My dad taught me to only work and never have fun, especially after Phine left."
Wes dragged a chair and sat next to her. "Are you actually opening up to me?" he asked her.
"I'm going to die, what's it going to hurt?"
"You are not going to die."
"Whatever," she said. "Mother and father were never what you could call sweet," she told him with tearful eyes.
Wes looked at her attentively determined to not miss a word. For the following twenty minutes, Jessica told Wes about her childhood. How her parents had been cold to her, how her father had burnt all her drawings, and her art materials, how she had always wanted to be a fashion designer and how her father had forced her to become a businesswoman, how he had kept her in the dark, away from parties, magazines, friends, boyfriends and all. How, while she was very capable in her work, she felt absolutely useless emotionally.
"And I have one last confession to make," she told him, her face washed by her tears. Wes took her hand and kissed her fingers. He was crying himself. He had thought his parents had been bad, but at least, he got to party and play around. "I-I'm a--" Wes never knew. The doctor walked into the room and greeted them.
The doctor held his stethoscope against her chest and her back. He did it repeatedly, as if trying to get a better reading of her lungs. "I want an x- ray of her chest, right now," he told the nurse with him gravely. Wes could see Jessica close her eyes with a painful expression.
"I think she's hurting," he told the doctor. Jessica shook her head no.
"It's the ICU next," she told him with a sad smile.
"The ICU?" Wes asked, looking at the doctor.
"Afraid so. I'm going to put a tube down her throat and connect her to a ventilator to help her breathe. She'll be unconscious for some time now," the man in the white coat explained.
"What did the other doctor say about her stomach?" Wes asked, caressing his wife's hair. She felt for his hand with hers and grasped it tightly. She was shaking with fear.
"It wasn't what we had suspected, fortunately. It was a normal reaction to the stress of the disease. It's normal."
"Are you telling me it's normal my wife is throwing up blood?!" he asked angrily.
"Mr. Collins, please calm down," the doctor asked. "It is a normal reaction to the disease. But I think your wife is indeed suffering from a complication to her disease. I want to get her to the ICU and start using more aggressive antibiotics now, before it's too late." The nurse, who had left the room, returned in the company of two male nurses. They had a stretcher with them, and began to get the tubes off Jessica, so they could move her.
"Please no," she begged with tears in her eyes. "Wesley," she called for her husband.
"You're going to be okay, baby. I'll be with you, I won't leave you alone!"
She kept crying. She didn't care anymore if he saw her crying, if he saw her true self. She was scared and she needed comfort and she wanted to get it from Wesley. "Kiss me," she asked.
Wes looked at her, surprised; she had been so cold to him for so long the only kisses she would take were little pecks on the cheek if he didn't hug her too much. But now she was begging him to kiss her. He approached her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"On the lips," she begged. He smiled at her with his most charming smile and approached her face.
"I wouldn't recommend that, Mister Collins," The doctor said.
Wes ignored him, he didn't know how important that moment was for them. He pressed his lips against Jessica's softly. She was a terrible kisser, Wes noticed, not really responding to his kiss, not really knowing what to do, but still, he felt her love, her fear. He felt how she looked for comfort in him and he was happy she finally trusted him. He parted his lips from hers, with his heart strangely light.
"I love you," he told her, as the male nurses moved her from her bed to the stretcher.
"I love you too," she whispered tearfully.
They took her away, and Wes stared after them. Inside of him a debate started. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't want to see her connected to a machine. Her words echoed in his head. I love you too. He followed the medical crew down the alley. He wasn't going to leave his wife alone for a second.
Not now that he knew she loved him.
To be continued.
Time Force Headquarters were under attack indeed. The once elegant and imposing white building now showed not-so-proudly a number of holes burnt through its walls, and an equal number of fires were lit inside.
Time Force officers, in patrols, on motorcycles or on their feet, ran from the building which was being evacuated. Three teams were trying to stop the menace.
Like Logan said, Ransik was there. But, since she had never been exactly problematic, Logan hadn't mentioned Nadira was by her father's side, and also, Jen's heart stopped for a second when she saw it; they were accompanied by what looked like the deluxe edition of Steelix, all made of gold.
"Is that Steelix?" Alex asked, parking his bike right across Jen's way, forcing her to stop at a considerable distance from the building.
"No, it's not," Jen said angrily, coming to a stop as well. "Steelix was all silver, that guy is golden." She tried to go around Alex and walk towards the building, but he held her by the waist.
"Where the hell are you going?" he asked her, pushing her back towards her cycle.
"To do MY JOB!!" she yelled angrily. "Now, get out of my way," she told him.
"Jen, wait, we need a plan, if this guy has any relation to Steelix, then this is way too dangerous for you," Alex told her, grasping her by the shoulders.
Angrily she shook him off, why was he treating her like a baby girl?
"I'm trying to protect you!" He told her, beginning to get a little angry himself. Apparently, she had sent the thought via telepathy.
"I don't need your protection!" she yelled at him. "Alex, I mean it, get out of my way," she repeated.
"Guys!" Lucas called for their attention. "Would you keep the marital discussions for home? Right now, Ransik and this Steelix wannabe are attacking our co-workers."
Jen and Alex both looked at him and then at the building that was under attack. "Alex," Jen said. "Please." Her voice was pleading, like it had been years ago when she had asked him to give Wesley his morpher back.
He took a deep breath and looked away from her. "All right, but be careful!"
************************
Jessica moved abruptly. Wes was still sitting next to her bed, reading some finance reports, judging by the blue paper they were printed on. On his lap laid a Human Resources report, printed on pink paper, and under that one, a Silver Guardians report, printed on gray paper. She moved abruptly again, and this time her husband noticed her movements.
"Jess? Do you need anything?" he asked her, but she seemed to be still asleep. "Jessica? You awake?" he asked softly.
Jessica opened her eyes and looked at him. She didn't want him to go, but she didn't want him to see her like this either, crying. "I'm having more problems breathing," she told him. It wasn't a lie, it was getting harder for her to breathe, and it would give her some time.
"Want me to call the doctor?" he asked standing next to her, caressing her arm.
"Please," she said. He nodded and left. Jessica took a breath as deep as she could and felt tears sliding down her cheeks.
The dreams were back. It had been a while since she had last dreamed about her father, about her childhood. About Phine, a nasty little voice in her head said.
"Phine," she whispered to the air. "I miss you so much."
"Who's Phine?" Wes asked, suddenly appearing next to her. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
"I want to go back to work," she said. "I'm tired of lying in bed." She was more scared of inactivity that anything else, because it gave her time to think, time to see inside of herself. And now she was dying, and she noticed, suddenly, as she look into his eyes, how badly she had been treating Wesley, the man she loved more than anyone else.
"You can't go to work yet. The treatment isn't over."
"The treatment is not working at all!" she snapped suddenly, provoking hard, dry coughing and tears. Tears that came due to the pain in her hoarse throat and from her hoarse heart.
"Jessica, it is working," Wes told her, worriedly. "It's just working very slowly, because you kept the disease from me for too long."
"I'm sorry," she told him, sobbing and coughing. Now the cough seemed perpetual, it almost never stopped. Every breath she took was expelled out at a tremendous speed. "I was taught to never bother my husband about anything."
"Who taught you that?" Wes asked. "It's medieval!"
"My mother," Jessica answered. "My parents were kind of 18th century-ish. My dad taught me to only work and never have fun, especially after Phine left."
Wes dragged a chair and sat next to her. "Are you actually opening up to me?" he asked her.
"I'm going to die, what's it going to hurt?"
"You are not going to die."
"Whatever," she said. "Mother and father were never what you could call sweet," she told him with tearful eyes.
Wes looked at her attentively determined to not miss a word. For the following twenty minutes, Jessica told Wes about her childhood. How her parents had been cold to her, how her father had burnt all her drawings, and her art materials, how she had always wanted to be a fashion designer and how her father had forced her to become a businesswoman, how he had kept her in the dark, away from parties, magazines, friends, boyfriends and all. How, while she was very capable in her work, she felt absolutely useless emotionally.
"And I have one last confession to make," she told him, her face washed by her tears. Wes took her hand and kissed her fingers. He was crying himself. He had thought his parents had been bad, but at least, he got to party and play around. "I-I'm a--" Wes never knew. The doctor walked into the room and greeted them.
The doctor held his stethoscope against her chest and her back. He did it repeatedly, as if trying to get a better reading of her lungs. "I want an x- ray of her chest, right now," he told the nurse with him gravely. Wes could see Jessica close her eyes with a painful expression.
"I think she's hurting," he told the doctor. Jessica shook her head no.
"It's the ICU next," she told him with a sad smile.
"The ICU?" Wes asked, looking at the doctor.
"Afraid so. I'm going to put a tube down her throat and connect her to a ventilator to help her breathe. She'll be unconscious for some time now," the man in the white coat explained.
"What did the other doctor say about her stomach?" Wes asked, caressing his wife's hair. She felt for his hand with hers and grasped it tightly. She was shaking with fear.
"It wasn't what we had suspected, fortunately. It was a normal reaction to the stress of the disease. It's normal."
"Are you telling me it's normal my wife is throwing up blood?!" he asked angrily.
"Mr. Collins, please calm down," the doctor asked. "It is a normal reaction to the disease. But I think your wife is indeed suffering from a complication to her disease. I want to get her to the ICU and start using more aggressive antibiotics now, before it's too late." The nurse, who had left the room, returned in the company of two male nurses. They had a stretcher with them, and began to get the tubes off Jessica, so they could move her.
"Please no," she begged with tears in her eyes. "Wesley," she called for her husband.
"You're going to be okay, baby. I'll be with you, I won't leave you alone!"
She kept crying. She didn't care anymore if he saw her crying, if he saw her true self. She was scared and she needed comfort and she wanted to get it from Wesley. "Kiss me," she asked.
Wes looked at her, surprised; she had been so cold to him for so long the only kisses she would take were little pecks on the cheek if he didn't hug her too much. But now she was begging him to kiss her. He approached her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"On the lips," she begged. He smiled at her with his most charming smile and approached her face.
"I wouldn't recommend that, Mister Collins," The doctor said.
Wes ignored him, he didn't know how important that moment was for them. He pressed his lips against Jessica's softly. She was a terrible kisser, Wes noticed, not really responding to his kiss, not really knowing what to do, but still, he felt her love, her fear. He felt how she looked for comfort in him and he was happy she finally trusted him. He parted his lips from hers, with his heart strangely light.
"I love you," he told her, as the male nurses moved her from her bed to the stretcher.
"I love you too," she whispered tearfully.
They took her away, and Wes stared after them. Inside of him a debate started. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't want to see her connected to a machine. Her words echoed in his head. I love you too. He followed the medical crew down the alley. He wasn't going to leave his wife alone for a second.
Not now that he knew she loved him.
To be continued.
