CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN:
NOBODY GETS LEFT BEHIND…
Cold white moonlight crept silently across linen sheets, staining them with an eerie, bluish glow as it proceeded upward toward a single bloodshot eye, still open at this ungodly hour of the night. A steady breeze tinged with winter came in through the open window, causing Pleakley to shiver. Pulling the bed sheets up further over his broken body, he debated briefly over whether or not he should call someone in to close the window for him. After a moment he decided against it, knowing full well that it was he who had insisted on leaving the window open all night in the first place, and that it would be unfair to wake up Jumba or Nani just because he was freezing now like they had told him he would be.
A second thought came to mind, further pushing the desire to wake anyone up out of his head. He was cold, yes, and he was certain he would come down with pneumonia by morning, but then he wondered suddenly why he should even care. What was pneumonia compared to the tremendous pain he had already had to endure, both physically and emotionally?
There he lay, in a human hospital bed, covered with bruises, burns and abrasions, suffering from blood loss and various stages of mental and emotional instability. Surely he was doomed to die of these wounds anyway; either doomed to die or doomed to survive in the living hell he had succumbed to over the past month. So what was a little pneumonia on top of it all? Just another drop of tainted blood in his ocean, and maybe, God willing, a quicker release as well.
In his delusion, he smiled, accepting the option of death. He breathed deep the icy air, letting it expand his aching lungs almost to their bursting point. He coughed, feeling a cold coming on. A moment later he heard a faint creaking sound, followed by padded footsteps on the linoleum floor. He quickly closed his eye, pretending to sleep so that he would not have to talk to whomever had entered the room. The footsteps were light and quick, so he knew it had to be a human, and not the thick-footed Jumba or the scampering Stitch.
The footsteps paused at the foot of the bed, and the soft, feminine sigh that followed told him that it was Nani. She made a second noise, one of her typical grunts of annoyance that made him cringe slightly. Still pretending to be asleep, Pleakley listened as she stepped over to the window and closed it, shutting the curtains as well. He heard Nani muttering to herself, something in her native Hawaiian, before stepping back toward the bed. He could sense her leaning over him, and he tried not to cringe visibly when he felt her body heat radiating toward his face. Gentle hands laid a warm cotton blanket over his trembling body before tucking him in with the utmost care. A lock of her long black hair brushed against his cheek, and he had to suppress the urge to push it away.
Next thing he knew, he felt a cool hand on his forehead, obviously checking him for fever. He had expected that. What he didn't expect was for her to lean down and kiss him tenderly on the cheek, then whisper something that would haunt him for the rest of the night: "You are ohana now, Pleakley, no matter what anyone else says. We'll always love you, too, no matter what. Ohana. Family. Forever."
Family. Right. What did it matter now? This makeshift, mixed-up family on Earth could never replace the family he had lost. No. Never. They were gone. Lost. Forever. And it's all because of me! Pleakley thought, shuddering violently as a fresh wave of tears broke free and streamed down his cheeks. Why? God, why?!! How could I have let this happen? Mom… Leera…dead…NOOO!!! Pleakley twisted and turned under the covers in a fit of fevered half-sleep as disembodied voices echoed in his head, calling to him out of that fateful moment before detonation.
They're gone. Dead. Gone. All my fault. No. Mom! Leera! Dead. NO!!! Gone. Lost. Forever. Dead. All my fault… all my fault…
Pleakley jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat and shaking. Ever since his escape from the Kaizaxx a week ago, his sleep had been plagued with unspeakable nightmares; nightmares of his mother and his love perishing before his eyes in countless agonizing ways while he could only watch, helpless. He sat bolt upright in bed, hearts wrenching painfully. I left them… I left them behind…The mere thought of this was enough to make him gag. He felt sick, sicker than he had ever been in his life. Thinking hurt him. He couldn't stand it. He didn't want to think anymore. He just couldn't stand it. The pain was unbearable. They were gone. Vay and Leera were gone, and he could not live without them. It was as if someone had removed both his hearts. Life was pointless now. He was dead to the world, and the world was dead to him. Life was worthless. It wasn't even worth taking from himself. As much as Pleakley desired Death to find him that night, he could not bring himself to meet Death halfway. Exhaustion overtook him and he collapsed once again into a troubled sleep.
Yeah, I know it's been a long time. Too long. I won't bother with the petty excuses, though. It's time I sat my ars back down and wrap up this fic. In case you can't tell, we ARE nearing the end here. And yeah, I know this chap is just a déjà vu reiteration of the prologue. Call me lazy, but can you think of a better (and easier) way to bring the story full-circle? Don't worry. I'm on a roll now with the remaining chapters, so you can expect this fic to be finished by the end of the month. Please review! Thanx!