READ FIRST: This chapter follows Ron the entire time. I have put down information on the place he is at and the date and time. I thought that it would make this easier to read.
Chapter 1
-The Beginning of the End-Part 2
By: Forgotten466
"You see, tonight's the big Middleton Day festival and I don't have a date." Her timid voice and shy face were a sight unknown to him as his best friend stood there, uncertain of herself.
Dumfounded he tried looking into her eyes only to find them downcast in fear of his answer. Seconds were passing like hours; he had to say something, anything. Final he spoke, "date? You want go to the festival as my date?" It wasn't the best answer, but at least he said something.
Her face filled with joy as she cheered, "oh, I thought you'd never ask!"
"Wait, but I...." Any replied was stopped by the force of her lips against his. At first he was taken back, unsure of what was going on or how he found himself in this situation. But after a moment he let himself relax and wrapped his arms around her deepening the kiss. He had dreams and hopes of something like this happening, but never in his imagination did he believe he would be caressing her lips with his own. But here it was like in all the fantasies he had.
Then it was over; she pulled back and placed a hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to stop giggling. When she had let go he felt weak and suddenly found himself on the floor looking at the ceiling in a blissful daze. The only sound noticeable was a voice annoying to his ears. He tried to block it out, but the irritating shrill grew louder shouting something to him, something he didn't want to do.
"Wake Up."
03:50 hours till extraction
Thursday December 8, 2004 23:40 hours
Weary eyes open and beheld the sight of a strong hand shaking his shoulder and a voice of annoyance that was trying to bring him back into reality. He followed the hand up the arm and beheld the dark face of Brandon looking back at him. Once Brandon saw the face of reason on Ron he stood up from his knelt position and offered a hand to his teammate. His time of blissful slumber was over, so with a quick yawn he took the offered hand. Even though his protested he stood up and stretched out any remaining sleep.
Brandon remained there as he finished waking up and handed him his Colt M4 when he reached out for it. Brandon made his presence felt again speaking with concern for his friend, "fifteen minutes are up, you sure you don't want to rest anymore? You've been up for almost two days now and you look like hell."
He would have loved to curl into a ball and fall asleep like the rodent currently occupying his right pants pocket, but they had to keep moving. They needed to make their extraction time if they wanted to get out of this jungle. He knew Brandon was worried so he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder saying, "once we make it to our transport I'll sleep, but right now we have twenty kilometers to go in three hours." He then signaled to their prisoner. "I also want to ask our friend over there some questions."
Upon hearing this news Brandon rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Ron, you sure that's a good idea? Last time you interrogated a suspect you put two bullets in his right leg. This is a high priority suspect that the Agency will want in one piece, you have a tendency to go overboard when it comes to interrogations."
He didn't feel like getting into an argument right now, but if Brandon was unsure of this he should at least explain his position. "First, that was terrorists shipping weapons grade plutonium to a sleeper cell in Las Angeles. If I hadn't done what I did L.A. would be a radioactive desert right now." He moved closer trying to make his next point valid. "Besides haven't you been wondering why they've been sending us to these labs and making us intercept drop points just to take down some drug cartel. Since we joined the elite unit we've been dealing with high-class terrorists and other hostile threats, now were back to doing low-level work like what we first did. Were trained better than this, let the DEA do this work, not us." With that he turned away and paused for a moment. "I've been pushed around and treated like nothing before I joined up. I've worked too hard to go back and become that weak person." With that being said he turned and walked away with Brandon right behind him.
In the two years Brandon new Ron he had to admit that he did come a long way from that weird kid he fist met. If it was a year ago then maybe he could change his mind, but now he rarely ever seconded guessed his decisions. It was then that he decided that he might try to lighten the mood a little. With a cold smile on his face he spoke up, "want to tell me about that dream you had. No what, let me guess, it was about a hot looking red-head."
Ron paused in his walk turning to Brandon giving him a look that would make most men stiffen. Brandon only shrugged it off and pressed further. "You know it's perfectly natural for a boy your age to be thinking of girl's like that. Should I call up dad and tell him it's time for the talk."
He hated when he brought Kim up, especially during missions. He decided the best way out of this would be to turn around and slowly walked away. A fistfight wouldn't make things any easier in their situation. He stopped for a moment to calm his nerves and get the feeling of wanting to beat someone out of his mind. He knew that the worst thing you could do during an interrogation was loose your cool, if that happened the prisoner might not talk.
As he stood there he pulled out the pack of cigarettes he stole from the man he recently killed. He groaned seeing that he had taken a pack of 'ultra light' cigarettes. 'Who smokes lights, these things kill you, might as well go for the regulars,' he thought. He savored the atmosphere one more moment before pushing some of his blond hair out from his eyes and lighting up. He looked at the glowing tip of his cancer stick and sighed, this had become a habit he thought he would never pick up. He had taken it up after eight months with the Agency along with drinking.
It wasn't like it mattered anyway considering their medical treatments he was required to go through. It was common to have what they called a 'flush' at least once every two weeks. It was a process were they inject you with chemicals that automatically cleaned your blood, organs and any infected parts in your body. Its main purpose was in case a solider came into a chemical agent that laid dormant in his system, there were far worse chemicals out there than they allowed the public to know about. The 'flush' also cleared out his lungs and liver so that the next day he could kill them again anew.
He started back on his way to their new 'prize' that was taken during the recent mission. Jaskaran, or Aladdin as they called him, was watching over their prisoner, George Hernandez. Looking at their prisoner he could tell that the man was scared as he knelt there blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. This was the first rest they had after they seized him three hour ago. As he knelt there Ron saw the damage that had happened to him during those three hours of walking. His bare feet were torn from the jungle floor and any skin on his body that wasn't covered by clothes was bleeding or bruised. Between the dirt, dried blood and sweat he looked like he had been marching towards the gates of hell.
Even with his appearance what surprised him the most was that he didn't try and escape, all he had done was cry and pee himself. His complaining had become so bad that Aladdin put a gag in his mouth, something that was not in his nature. If the reports he had read were true then he was the exact opposite of his brother. Nonetheless he was about to get some answers.
What he was about to do was well against orders. It was clearly know that if a strike team took a prisoner that it was up to the interrogators to question them. Except that it wasn't in Ron's nature to follow orders, something that was well know among his superiors that both helped and hurt his reputation. If the circumstances had been different he would have not bothered with this, but they had been sending them across Central and South America for the past two weeks taking down drug lab without an explanation as to why. This was the first time they were not in on what was going on.
Ron joined his other teammates and all three men formed a circle around their prisoner. Ron knelt down and spoke in an even tone; "I'm going to ask you some questions. Answer me correctly and we'll give you some water. Do you understand?" The man simple nodded and Ron took out the gag.
Once the gag had been removed Hernandez cried out, "You American scum. Don't you know who I am? How important I am? My brother will kill you like the pigs you are." Any other comments that he might have said were silenced by Ron's fist slamming against his face, sending him to the ground.
He was lifted up by the same hand that knocked him down and in a growl was told, "you talk when I give you a question, understand." This did the trick as it shut Hernandez up.
As he looked down at the pathetic form before him he decided that it was only right to answer some of his questions. In the past reveling that you know a great deal about them during an interrogation would help in them talking. He bent down only inches away from his face and in a calm tone stated, "You are George Hernandez of the famous Hernandez brothers that are known throughout the drug world as the largest supplier of cocaine to the Americas and Asian. You got this title because of your brother who started a two-year war exterminating members of other drug families. Your brother's name is Carlos Hernandez; he is an expert in martial arts, weaponry and military tactics. He also has a knack for torture, not just for spies or competition but for when he feels lonely. To put it in simple terms, he's a ruthless son of a bitch." He then went farther down placing his lips almost on his ear whispering, "Only second to me." With that he rubbed out the last of his cigarette on the man's check.
He waited a moment to let what he said sink in. After his little speech he was pleased to see that his prisoner was confused as to why he would know so much about his family and operations. Ron continued on, "were not with the drug enforcement agencies of Columbia or the DEA of America. Consider us a special type of government agent with better resources and not bond by laws or regulations. We want to know why a high powered organization would even deal with some pathetic drug dealers? We already know that you're working with outside people, your prostitute last night told us."
George only started to squirm as they were expecting their answer. Ron pulled his Baby Eagle from its holster and pressed the barrel into Hernandez's face. "If you don't tell me what you know I'll beat it out of you." After another moment of hesitation the butt of the Baby Eagle whipped across his face causing Hernandez to spit out blood and a tooth.
He wasn't even able to cry out as Ron grabbed his throat and slammed the back of his head into the ground. The low growl from his interrogator told him that he needed to speak if he wanted to live, so he cried out, "I don't know anything that happens in the dealings. I run the operations of making the goods and delivering them to the locations. I only said those things to her to look good."
After hearing this Ron holstered his gun and looked at Hernandez's face with disgust. He didn't believe that he knew nothing and decided to take things further. The next sound that was heard was Hernandez's nose as it broke from the force of Ron's right as it smashed into his face.
Hernandez cried out from pain and fear screaming, "please I'm begging you. I don't know anything about these people. Do you hear me, I don't know."
Ron was kneeling on the ground above Hernandez and had thrown another fist. He was about to throw another right when Brandon grabbed his hand and stopped him. He looked back to see the stern face of his friend mouthing for him to stop. Ron just freed his hand, turned around and walked away. Brandon watched Ron walk out of sight then looked over to Aladdin who was tending Hernandez and spoke, "give him five minutes to cool down, then we'll head out."
Aladdin nodded and continued working on Hernandez
00:15 hours till extraction
Friday December 9, 2004 03:15 hours
Sore muscles that pulsated with pain were the only thing keeping the three men aware that they were still alive. The sounds of waves crashing were like a multitude of heaven's harps to there ears as they arrived at the beach. Four days prior to tonight they arrived at this same spot carried by a helicopter that drooped them ten miles out. Now they were going to exit in the same manner using the raft they had hidden. All three men dropped their gear as Aladdin and Brandon went ahead with Ron taking a seat trying to catch his breath. Only an hour into the hike Hernandez collapsed from exhaustion and since Ron lost the paper, rock, scissors contest he had to carry him the rest of the way. The only thing that made matters worse was when they realized what time it was. In hopes of making the pick-up on time they had to sprint for the last hour. After a minute Ron had gotten his breathing under control and with protest from his body went to prepare their equipment for the return home.
When they first arrived on this beach they deflated and hid their raft out of sight under loose vegetation they found around the area. Now the two men were making there way to the camouflaged pile again, only this time they were removing the pile of tree limbs and brush. When they had removed the pile they took from the bottom what appeared to be a wade of rubber and dragged it to the water's edge. There they laid it out reveling the form of a deflated raft. In the center of it was the engine, that Brandon took, and another that Aladdin grabbed. It was a small black device that he connected to a ring on the rubber section. A silent hum informed him that it was on as the raft started to fill with air. When that was taking place Brandon was connecting the motor. When both men finished Ron was waiting with the equipment ready for transport.
With their prisoner and equipment secured in the center all three men dragged the raft out to waist deep water. Once they were far enough from the coast they took their places. Ron and Brandon each laid on their stomach at opposite ends of the raft with their Colt M4 aimed in front of them. Aladdin was in back charged with steering to their pick-up point.
The tension in the raft was immense as they drove into the darkness. They had been given an exact time for extraction four days ago before they left on their mission. The only difference had been that they were suppose take down three labs, taking on the fourth one had cost them precious time. Each member knew there was a chance that they weren't going to make it. If that happened it would open up a whole new can of worms.
All stress in the raft disappeared as they saw the lights of their ride. Ron smiled to himself as he saw the beautiful machine in front of him, a V-22 Osprey. Normal extraction vehicles would have sophist, but then needed one that would be able to go all the way to Guantanamo Bay without stopping.
Aladdin pulled from his vest a flashlight and with it on shined it at the Osprey moving his hand over it twice. In returned the airborne vehicle flashed one of its lights so they could make adjustments. It turned so that the rear was towards them while it lower itself to the water. The back opened making a ramp into the interior so they could ride in. When it was fully opened a man inside flashed a light signaling for them to make their move. It was at this time that Aladdin hit the motor propelling the raft fast enough to counter the wind made the rotors. When it hit the ramp the combine efforts of the men inside the Osprey and the speed helped to pull the whole raft inside.
Once on the Osprey Ron went up to the crew chief. "I need to speak to General Lupin about a prisoner we took. This is a high priority message."
The other man simple nodded saying, "he must already know. He's told us to contact him immediately once we extracted you. He has information for a Lazarus."
He was taken back by this information, but went along with it anyway. "I'm Lazarus, once you have him tell me."
The man nodded and went to work contacting the General. Lazarus was Ron's codename during missions to keep his identity safe. It was amazing how much secretly went on with them, this mission alone was a perfect example. Outside of his team only about six people knew where they were and what they were doing.
Three minutes went by until they were able to pick up a signal and contact General Lupin on the COM. Ron was the first to talk to him as he walked over and took the headset. After a moment the connection was made and he heard the General's voice. The next few moments went in slow motion for Ron as he listened to the General's deepest condolences.
2,000 Feet Over Mid West America
Friday December 9, 2004 10:15 hours
Major airline corporations make billions of dollars every year. They oversee thousands of airplanes, manage a worldwide schedule of flights and employ tens of thousands. "So why can't they give you a plastic glass that is big enough to hold your entire can of coke?" He looked to his left to find that Ron was still staring out the window not acknowledging his comment. He had been this way since he heard the news about his father.
It still scarred Brandon as he remembered Ron's reaction to his father while they were on the Osprey. It was the first time that he say fear in his face. Fear was something he never showed to anyone, this was something Ron worked at since they first meet him. During missions he was always the rock, unmoved by anything. That was one thing Brandon could always count on about Ron, he was tough. In there line of work that was something you always had to have.
The person that delivered the news, General Lupin, was one of the few friends that their team had left after what was dubbed the 'Russian' incident. He still remembered that before that they were one of the top teams around, but now they had been a target for dismantle. Since that mission only a few people stood behind their actions anymore. The highest friend they had in the food chain was General George Lupin, a three star general, and he fought tooth and nail to keep them around. Thankfully the General pulled some strings and was able to let Ron, accompanied by himself, go back home and see his father. Usually prodical stated that he remained at station until all useful information was given and properly analyzed. Aladdin had agreed to do that while the two of them went off.
Once they had arrived at Guantanamo Bay they immediately boarded onto a small two-engine plane that took them to Miami International. It would have been nice to travel directly to Middleton, but prodigal stipulated that they had to take public transportation. This was why they were now on a one-way United Airways flight back home.
He turned his head back in the off chance that Ron had moved, unfortunately he hadn't. He thought it was best to just give him space for the time being. So he went back to stare at his plastic glass of coke, he had to fill his mind with something to keep from going insane. Ron hadn't spoken a word since he received the news, so there was nobody he could talk to. That was the other thing scary about today, in all his time of knowing Ron he always had something to say. The fact that Ron didn't know if his father was ever going to wake-up again was probably killing him on the inside.
He himself was also going through hell waiting to see if dad was going to be okay. It was funny how he now considered them mom and dad instead of Mr. or Mrs. Stoppable. It happened in one week during the first year with the Agency. Ron had dragged him to his home for the holiday leave. He didn't have a family so during the off time he had planed on just staying in the training facility of the Agency, luckily for him Ron had won out. The Stoppable's had instantly opened up there home to him and treated him like he was there son. They told him it would be nice for him to stay since Kim wasn't spending Christmas in Middleton this year. Even though he was Christian he helped to celebrate Hanukkahwith them until Christmas morning came along. He was awaken early in the morning by Ron who was dragging him downstairs, he didn't have a clue what was going on until he saw it. A Christmas tree adorned with decorations and presents. Ron's parents had spent all night preparing it and even though they were Jewish they had given him a Christmas. It was then that they became his parents.
He never had true parents that loved and respected him like Ron. Most of his life was filled with hard times growing up. Since Ron wasn't in the talking mood he hit the button on the side of his armrest and reclined back. He touched the scar on his face and brought about instant memories of his so-called childhood. It was weird really; this single scar had changed his life and brought him into the Agency.
He remembered how he had grown up outside of the concrete jungle known as New York City. His first memories of his family were of his abusive father and his mother who spent most of the time drunk or passed out on the floor. He remembered how at eight his father came home one day and started to blame him for a mess that he didn't make. The verbal abuse ended with him getting hit with a beer bottle that gave him a bad cut. His parents took him to the hospital and gave some false story about the cut. When they had returned home he decided that any other life was better than this, so he ran away from that broken home into the open arms of a street gang in New York. At a young age he was quickly accepted and started out running drugs across the streets to dealers. In a weird way he felt safer while he was in the streets, to him this was more of a home than anything. Here he also met Kamal who was the same age and had joined because of his brothers' involvement. To Brandon, Kamal was a brother he never had, they would do everything together and were never far apart from one and another.
Everything was going well until one day when he was twelve. He was in a car with some other members going to get some food when they pulled around a street to see a rival gang hanging out at a corner. The three older members smiled as they reached for there pieces and rolled down the windows. The only two not to have any weapons was Kamal and himself. Once everything started the world went by in a blur as bullets came back from the other gang members and the street erupted in a hail of thunder from both sides. When they had started being fired on they gunned the car and drove away cheering about how they defended their turf. Even though Brandon didn't fire he was cheering until he felt Kamal lean against him. It took a second for him to figure out what was going on when he saw his blood soaked shirt. Once realization set in he yelled for them to head for the hospital as he held his brother while he tried to stop the bleeding. Kamal died in his arms right before they got to the hospital. The police came later taking all four into custody.
Two weeks after his death the three members had been given sentences and shipped off to jails within the state New York. Being twelve Brandon missed the heavier charges and was given one of the Judges inventive sentences. He had been sent off to a boot camp in Pennsylvania where the regiment was like that of any military camp. It was here that he vowed to change his life. In the camp he started receiving a proper education and worked hard in the physical conditioning too. His motivation was to forget his past mistakes and to make a future for himself. He worked so hard at it that he caught the eye of the Sargent who ran the camp, with his help he was able to be placed in another military type camp when his sentence was over. The Sargent also talked to child service of New York and had secured him free funding until he graduated. It was weird, but to Brandon the military was his answer for a better life. He could receive an education and later on he would be able to go the military for real. It was his dream of being in the military that had him working so hard. Hard enough that it got him noticed by a man in the Agency looking for young men with his skills.
He stopped reminiscing and looked back at Ron who he could tell still hadn't moved. Finally he couldn't take the silence any longer and spoke up. "You going to say anything at all?"
Ron stopped staring out of the window and laid his head back looking up at the plastic ceiling. He closed his eyes and almost looked like he was about to go to sleep when he spoke quietly in an even tone, "I've been thinking about a story my father told me about a guy who he went to school with. The more I think about it the more I think I'm become this guy."
"Care to enlighten me on what happened."
Ron toke a breath and released it slowly, "My father went to school with this man who fought in Vietnam. He was an explosives technician, in short he would set whatever explosives they had. His job was to set the charge so it would explode downwards to destroy the tunnels. He was setting these explosives during a battle going on. And I mean it was a big one, bombs going off and bullets whizzing by and people dying. Well, as he was setting his tenth or so bomb his commander came up to him and told him to go to base, he was going home. He went directly to the plane and an hour later was in Japan being put on another plane for San Francisco. In less than eleven hours he went from being in the middle of an all-out battle to walking the streets of San-Fran. Well, they took his equipment and let him go telling thank you for serving your country your out of the war. They told him where the bus station was so he could head home. As he was walking down the street two hippie-freak people saw him in his uniform and the girl spit in his face and continued walking. He immediately went for his gun. Luckily he didn't have it or he would have killed them."
Brandon sat there for a moment taking everything in. He finally spoke, "so you think you're going to go off on somebody because of everything you've been doing?"
"No, I'm afraid that I've changed permanently. That this job has already taken everything good out of me. And don't say it hasn't, I've heard the talks between you and Aladdin about how I've been acting. Hell Aladdin keeps talking about Karma; maybe this is all the shit hitting the fan. I mean just five hours ago I almost beat a man to death, and I would have to if you didn't stop me." Ron quieted down once Brandon place an arm across his chest. People were starting to look up trying to figure out were the noise was coming from.
Brandon let his friend breath for a moment before answering. He made sure that Ron was looking in his eyes as he spoke in a low understanding tone. "You go out everyday stopping killers and radical religious followers from unleashing pain and death. Any person who would do that is on a higher status in life then normal people. Hell, most Americans think Michael Moore is a preacher of truth with his screwed up views of piece. The public is in your debt far beyond anything they could pay back. You're a good solider and an even better person because of what you do. "
Ron looked at him with unsure eyes and only nodded. He then turned back to the window watching the clouds go by. Brandon wasn't sure if it helped, but at least he finally said something.
Middleton General Hospital
Friday December 9, 2004 12:20 hours
'God I look like hell,' this was the single thought running through Ron's mind as he looked at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors. They were heading up to the third floor, room 412, that held his father. The elevator played some classic crap that was suppose to soothe and relieve anyone riding. To Ron it was just annoying, although the fact that Brandon had started to hum along to it was starting to ride on his nerves even more.
Even with the crappy music Ron was still trying to get his settings from the brief talk with the receptionist. For the past twelve hours he had been on the verge of a break down from what happened to his father, but when the receptionist told them his condition a wave of relief washed over him. Her words, 'the swelling had gone down,' had been a joyous moment for him. Even better to hear was the fact that he was coming out of his coma for moments at a time talking some and would fully wake up in a couple of days.
Even with this great news it was the next few words that brought him crashing down. Once they got the room number they were about to head off when the receptionist spoke up; "you're his son right? He first woke up eight hours ago and asked for you. Where were you?" That last question hurt him worse than anything ever had. It was with that question that his legs gave out and gravity took him to the floor. From there he started shaking and crying with no control. Brandon had to help him to the elevator telling him to breathe slowly and remember to be strong for his mother.
Now here he was, after about five minutes he was able to gain control and put on a straight face. He knew why he lost it back there; it was because he had not been there for his family. It was the one question that he hadn't wanted to hear. After all the missions he had gone on and knowing that millions of people depended on his actions it hit him that his own family could not depend on him. When he realized that all the emotion he had been bottling up finally came out.
At the sound of the ding both himself and Brandon sprinted out of the elevator following the number directions trying in vain to find his father's room. Brandon, who was right behind him, plowed into Ron's back when he suddenly stopped. He was about to shot some obscenities at him when he realized why he had stopped. Through a pair of doors to the waiting area was his mother, Catherine Stoppable, trying to get coffee out of a vending machine. Ron didn't bother to think about what he was going to say, he just walk through the doors up to her and spoke, "mom."
Catherine looked up from her brown stimulant showing her tried and bloodshot eyes. Upon seeing her boys she dropped her coffee and began shaking. Tears started to run down her face and in next moment Ron rushed to his mother throwing his arms around her as she cried on his shoulder. Brandon was nest to them to and offered a hug from the back for support. They stood there for over ten minutes crying on each other and thanking a higher power for bringing them together.
She spoke quietly through sobs muffled by Ron's shoulder in her face. "Thank God you came. I called the number you gave me at least twenty times. They keep saying you were away and they wouldn't me were. They just wouldn't tell me. Why wouldn't they tell me."
As his mother cried while he held her, he took deep breaths trying to be strong for her sake. In truth Ron wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and block out the world. "We couldn't be contacted. Oh God, if I had know what happened I would have come sooner."
Catherine, in a moment of strength, steadied herself and lifted her head off his shoulder. She looked her son square in the eyes saying, "he asked for you. You need to see him."
Ron simply nodded and was nudged aside by Brandon who took control of supporting their mother. He walked down the hall and looked back one last time to see Brandon motioning for him to go on. Turning around he walked through the swinging double doors into the hallway. From there he beheld the sight of room 412. He slowly walked to the room with fear weighing down his feet. Gripping the brass knob of the door with his shaking hand he slowly turned the knob.
With wide eyes Ron beheld the sight in front of him. His father was lying in his bed and looked in horrible condition. The top of his head above his eyes were covered with bandages. His face and left arm were completely black and blue while his right arm was in a cast. His right leg was also in a cast and had been propped up. Tubes, cable and other devices had been placed all about his body monitoring every action. Ron had tried to prepare himself for this by remembering the military hospitals he had gone to, but this looked like something from a horror movie.
He slowly walked to his father's side and looked down to see the man that he had always thought of as being invincible. Now for the first time he saw how fragile he was like everyone else. He took his father's hand into his own and started to softly cry.
He had to get it off his chest, if he didn't he wouldn't be able to live with himself. "I'm sorry. God am I sorry. I should have been here. I, I should have been the man and been here to take care of mom. I wasn't, I was out when I should have been here. God I hope you can forgive me."
Any more of his confession was stopped short when he felt a squeeze in his hand. He looked at his face and saw a small flicker of his eyelids. Then his eyes fully opened and started searching around. Then his eyes beheld the sight of his son and a smile formed on his lips. His father had woken up.
Ron's eyes started to water as his father mouthed his name. To Ron it looked like he wanted to say something so he bent down placing his ear to his father's lips so that he wouldn't have to strain his voice. His father mumbled something Ron's ear that sent a shock though him. Ron backed up; almost tripping over a chair, staring wide eyed at his father. His legs then gave out on him and he fell to his knees next to his father's bed. He gripped the bar for support and remained there with a lock of pure fear on his face.
Sorry for the delay. God decided to play a joke on me and make my computer crash. It had the next five chapters on it. So i won't be able to upadate on a regular basis like i wanted to.
Other than that i would like to thank you guys who reviewed my work, it is a real inspiration.
