A/N: Word of warning – there is a character death in this chapter. Anyone who's read 'No Fate' should know it's no surprise as to who is that character. There wasn't any good place to cut it off earlier so it's a bit longer than my usual chapters.
Thanks go to: Shadow Dark Night, misslyn, cold-blooded angel, Charmed Ravenclaw, IcantthinkofaFnick, Fanastygirl721, Flephanie, Sparkling Cherries, Chattypandagurl, As Always
It's you guys that gave me the extra boost of energy to get another chappie up in under a week!
Providence
Chapter 6
Today was so cold. I can't remember the last time I saw the sun. Buried deep in the earth, housed in these huge, sterile steel structures – there is no warmth here. I miss the sun. I miss feeling the warm comfort I got when I felt the sun's rays upon my face. Will I or any of us ever get to experience that feeling again?
– from the memoirs of Leslie St. Claire
She replayed their conversation in her mind…
"What's wrong with being cute?" she had asked.
"Puppies are cute. Little kids are cute. Teddy bears are cute. Trust me…no self-respecting guy wants to be known as 'cute'."
She felt her lips unconsciously curl upwards. He had seemed so…charming.
"Well, I happen to like cute," she had replied.
She'd watched as the younger man had blushed and stammered – obviously not as adept at the flirting game as she. There had been something…innocent in that awkwardness that he'd displayed when he suddenly seemed to realize she had been flirting with him. Something…genuine.
She'd given him a peck on the cheek.
Why?Incessant knocking on the door finally dragged Bianca out of her deep thoughts. She made sure that her dagger and wrist sheaths were still out of sight hidden in the dresser drawer where she'd placed them last night before falling asleep before she yanked the door of her room open.
"Morning! Can I interest you in some coffee?" Leslie asked cheerfully, holding out a steaming mug of the dark brew. "Careful…it's hot," he warned as Bianca reached out with both hands wrapping around the warm cup.
Closing her eyes in bliss, Bianca slowly sipped the hot liquid, savouring the warmth as it slid down her throat and began to permeate through the rest of her body. Opening one eye, she found Les grinning at her with open amusement. "I was cold."
Les' grin faded slightly, "Yeah, sorry about that. We don't have enough electricity to keep the complex heated. We do our best – some of the common areas like the mess hall and such – but we really don't have the energy to spare. That's why your room is so cold."
Bianca shrugged nonchalantly, "I've had worse."
"Oh?" Leslie shaded his tone as a question.
"My uncle was a recluse. There weren't a lot of…amenities…where I'm from," Bianca explained. Changing the topic to safer ground she asked, "I assume there's a reason you came banging on my door at this early morning hour?"
Not wanting to pry, Leslie nodded in response to Bianca's question, "Yep. I'm going to get you set up on supplies. Your tour will have to wait…I don't have any one I can spare right now."
"That's fine. Should we get going then?" Bianca replied smoothly.
Leading the way through the halls, Les threw Bianca a sidelong glance, "We'll pay a visit to housekeeping first. Get you some sheets, blankets and towels."
By this time they had entered a huge concourse which Bianca vaguely remembered hurrying past the previous day. Bianca blinked in surprise as she recognized the name of a well-known department store chain on the sign overhead. His grin full of mischief, "Yeah. One of the nice things about being located in an underground shopping mall – we've got access to some pretty neat supplies. You want 300 count Egyptian cotton? No problem. Come on – housekeeping is set up in the home furnishings department of the store."
They climbed the now still escalator located to their right and entered the department store. Looking all around, Bianca stared at the sight in front of her. Most of the shelves were half empty. Those with supplies were clearly labelled with signs taped to the front of the aisles. Moving swiftly, Les guided Bianca to the back of the store. There, a matronly woman who looked to be at least in her sixties was directing several dozens of individuals.
"Jack – I need you to take that to section five," the woman was saying as she checked something off her clipboard. Pointing at another woman, she directed, "Can you and your team double count the perishables in aisle seven? I need to know the exact numbers so I can put together our requisition for tonight's supply run."
Approaching from behind, Les gently placed a hand on the shoulder of the woman in charge, "Hey, Elise."
Elise turned, giving Les a huge smile filled with warmth, "Hey there, you rascal! How have you been? I haven't seen you around lately."
Les smiled back, "I've been swamped. Otherwise you know I would have stopped by to see you."
"Chris keeping you on your toes, eh?" Elise smiled cheekily.
"That guy does not understand the term 'free' time," Les pretended to groan. Motioning Bianca to come closer, he introduced her to Elise, "Anyways, I've brought someone for you to meet. She's new – just got in last night. We're going to need to set her up with some supplies."
Elise smiled at the newcomer, "How are you, dear? Did you bring anything with you?"
Bianca shook her head, "Just the clothes on my back, I'm afraid."
Elise frowned, "Well – we'll get you set up good and proper, don't you worry." Ambling over to a nearby door, which led to one of the stock rooms. She opened it and gestured for the other two to follow her. Inside the metallic shelves were lined with linens. Elise tossed a pillow at them, which hit an unsuspecting Les squarely in the face before he caught it with his hands. "Elise!" Les protested.
"Oh hush," Elise scolded Les good-naturedly. Grabbing a cloth bag she began to stuff it with assorted linens and towels, the entire time lecturing Bianca over her shoulder, "You'll be responsible for changing and washing your own sheets. The laundry facilities are kept on sub-level six. You'll have to check the schedule for your time allotment – we do it based on room numbers. We can't have everyone doing their laundry at the same time, you know. Energy issues." Pausing for breath, she looked at the young woman whose arms were filled with linens, "You're not one of the scouts, are you?"
Leslie shook his head, answering for her, "Nope. Not yet at any rate."
Handing the now half-full lumpy bag to Bianca, Elise shoved the other linens in Bianca's arms into the bag, squashing them down. "Well, if you do become one of the scouts, let me know. We'll work out a new schedule." Seeing Bianca's puzzled look, Elise explained, "My team takes care of all the scouts – their laundry, changing their sheets…general housekeeping duties. If you're not a scout than you help out in other ways."
"Thank God. Otherwise I'd probably be wearing rumpled clothing right now," Les admitted sheepishly.
"You and every other scout on base," Elise smiled in sympathy. "And Les is right – there is no such thing as free time. Once Les gets you settled in and if you decide not to join the scouts, there are plenty of other opportunities to help out."
"Elise – she hasn't even been here for twenty four hours!" Les chuckled. "Let's give her a chance to catch her breath before we start frightening her with all the stuff that needs to get done!"
Elise chuckled as well. "You're right. I'm sorry, dear. It's just – I guess I'm use to running things like a tight ship. Something to do with my former occupation, I guess."
Bianca smiled her thanks at the older woman, "I understand. And…I'll make sure to come to you if I do decide that…my skills are better put to use here."
"All right – off with the two of you! I need to get back to work," Elise shooed the two out of the stock room. "Les – you tell Chris I said 'hi' now. I can't remember the last time I saw that boy. You tell him he better make some time to see his old friend Elise."
"Will do. And Elise?" Les said over his shoulder as he and Bianca took their leave. "Thanks."
Giving them a short wave, Elise ambled off again, "Your welcome! And don't be a stranger, dear. We're all family here."
Chuckling to himself, Les eyed Bianca, "I think you're all set for the next fifty years or so…Here, you better let me take that."
Leslie handed over the pillow and took the lumpy bag of linens from Bianca. In doing so, he accidentally brushed against her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her sweater. He noticed a flash of black under her sleeve. "Is that a tattoo?"
Bianca quickly pulled her sleeve back down over the offending mark before Les could get a better look. Seeing his questioning look, she replied, "A little something from my wild days at college, I'm afraid." She laughed weakly, hoping that he would let it go.
Satisfied with the reply, Les' thoughts moved onto more important topic, "So have you given any further thought to joining the scouts? I don't want to pressure you…"
"Really?" Bianca asked, sceptically.
"Okay, maybe a little," Leslie had the grace to blush. "It's just…we need every hand we can get and you happen to be a witch…"
"Relax," Bianca replied, calmly. She had come to the decision last night after meeting Chris in the mess hall. What little information she had gathered from their encounter told her that his schedule was erratic, to say the least. She had concluded that the quickest and easiest way to gain access to Chris' schedule, or Chris himself, would likely be facilitated by joining the scouts. "I've already decided. Count me in."
"Great!" Leslie looked relieved. "We'll get you integrated as soon as possible. There are a couple of courses you'll need to take first and then I can assign you someone to shadow. Once you've got the hang of it we'll assign you to a permanent team."
Back at Bianca's room again, Les waited for her to open the door. He carelessly tossed the bag onto her bed, watching as she carefully placed the pillow down and turned to empty the bag of linens onto the bed. "I'll send one of the girls by to get you hooked up with new clothes as it's not really my department."
Bianca paused in her tidying, turning to nod solemnly at Les, "Sounds good. Thanks."
Leslie nodded back, slowly backing out the door, "And Bianca? If you need anything…don't hesitate to ask. Like Elise said, we're family. Okay? "
"Okay," Bianca replied, her concentration on the items on the bed in front of her.
Knowing he was being dismissed, Leslie left, closing the door gently behind him.
Staring at the linens on the bed, she took another set of towels and yanked open the second drawer of her dresser. The harsh light of the ceiling light glinted off the metal of her knives, winking up at her.
She looked at them for a long time, mesmerized.
Carefully, she placed her new towels over them and shut the drawer close, recalling the friendliness of Elise.
We're all family here.
A barrage of fireballs had partially destroyed the bridge in one of their earlier skirmishes with the demons, forcing the Resistance forces to abandon it long ago. On the plus side, once the bridge had been destroyed, the demons had not tried to increase their ground. Instead, flush with success from their accomplishment, the demons had pretty much vacated the area. Located in the far west end of the city, the bridge was located just above ground, connecting an underground shopping complex with a former train station. The underground shopping complex was still under the Resistance's control, while the train station had become 'neutral' ground when the bridge had given out. The bridge, once repaired, would finally give them the coveted access to the underground water source that they so desperately needed.
For the second moonless night in a row, Chris had led a repair and revetting party to the site, working at frantic speed to repair the bridge. Mostly made up of engineers and engineering students who had been attending the local colleges before all hell had broken loose, the majority of the individuals were innocents. A scout contingent, under the careful watch of Zach and Les, had stationed themselves off to the side on a restored section of the bridge to keep watch.
Not that much was visible. The darkness was so thick Chris could barely discern anything less than two feet in front of him. Occasionally, a match flared, or a person spoke, interrupting the blanket of darkness. Holding a small flashlight in his mouth, he aimed the weak beam at his lap, barely making out his own hands as they positioned the nail and wooden beam into place. Although he couldn't help with the design or architect of the bridge, he could lift a hand. It was almost therapeutic – the hard, manual labour. He squinted, hoped for the best, and brought the hammer down hard that in the permeating darkness he would hit the nail and not his hand.
The quiet was deceptive - it almost felt like no one else existed in the vicinity. It gave him a chance to reflect on his thoughts.
"Chris?" A voice broke his thoughts.
Blinking in surprise, Chris turned towards the voice, squinting as the beam from a flashlight temporarily blinded him, grabbing his own from his mouth so he could speak, "Hey, what are you doing here?"
Sheila lowered her flashlight, pointing it slightly to her left so that they could both make each other out in the peripheral light. "I'm on a supply run. We were up north earlier but it was dry. We thought we'd try our luck out here before giving up and going home. And given that the demons have been fairly inactive lately, Darryl thought I could use a chance to stretch my legs."
Chris grinned, "He's just being overprotective, you know."
Sheila rolled her eyes, "I love that man, but honestly...you'd think I was some sort of child. I can handle myself perfectly well. And I want to do my part too. I want to contribute."
"I know that," Chris agreed with a smile. "And so does Darryl. Give him some time to get use to the idea, Sheila. It was hard enough for him to accept the kids wanted to be involved in the action."
"I know," Sheila sighed. "Believe me, I can understand where he's coming from. I didn't want the kids to be part of this at all but I understood they needed to contribute back. And that's what I need too. It's why I didn't protest when they told me they were joining the Resistance, powers or no powers."
Chris nodded. "I wish we didn't need to call on innocents to help us but we need every person we can get."
"I know you guys do. Anyways, we'd better get going if we're going to make it back to base within the next couple of hours. If I'm not home by then Darryl will never let me out again," Sheila joked. "When do you think you'll have the bridge completed?"
Chris shrugged, "Barring no unforeseen circumstances, we should have the construction completed within the next two days. And maybe another two days to secure the area on the other side."
"Sounds good." Sheila reached over to squeeze Chris' shoulder lightly, "I'll see you back at base?"
Chris nodded.
Waving, Sheila turned and left, quickly falling into the lead with her team of eight. Chris recognized four of them as scouts and the others as innocents. The war with Wyatt had made it hard for them to have 'innocents' at all - they were all pretty much soldiers in this war with evil. He watched as Sheila and her team climbed out of the trenches that surrounded the complex and circle around, heading towards the train station. It would take them at least half an hour on foot to get there - once the bridge was completed, it would take them less than five minutes to gain direct access.
Turning back to the task at hand, Chris focused on the hammer once again, using his telekinesis to move the two by four into place. He was working a bit further out then the rest of the team, using his telekinesis to move the heavy wooden beams into place. Once he hammered in the main support beams, the others would follow in his wake, banging the rest of the materials into place. It made for quick work, but it also meant that Chris was a good ways away from the rest of the group.
From his vantage point, he could see Sheila's team crawl down into the reservoir that separated the two buildings. Climbing back up onto the other side would require some finesse. He had no doubt that Sheila had this all under control.
The reservoir was probably twenty feet deep by fifty feet wide. Dried grass poked up between the stones and dirt - the huge ditch pretty much void of any life, plant or otherwise. Chris spared one last glance at his friend, before turning his attention back to the two by four hovering in the air to his right.
And then, all hell broke loose.
Where there had only been silence and darkness, now there were pulses of light, reverberating explosions, outcries from the wounded and smoke so thick she choked. Pieces of wood rained down on them and she could hear the screams from above as the sudden attack took the engineers by surprise.
Ambush!
She never saw it coming.
Her last thought was for her family…Oh, Darryl…
"Incoming!" a voice shouted.
That was the only warning they got.
Seconds later, a scarlet flare burst in the sky, letting out a distinct whine as the fireballs fell to the ground, creating huge craters were they fell. Les covered the back of his head with both arms. The crew of engineers scrambled off the half repaired bridge, running for the trenches. Chris yelled a superfluous command for the team to hit the ground. Most were already down when Les landed on his chest, seconds before the array of fireballs made impact on the half restored bridge behind them.
From his position on the bridge, Chris ignored his precarious position and frantically searched the reservoir below for Sheila and the supply team. He scrambled to get down, yelling a warning, "Sheila! Get down! Get-"
A barrage of fireballs exploded into the reservoir below, hurled from the other side of the giant ditch.
Shit!
Thrown forward, Chris landed face down onto the hard ground. He struggled to raise his head, his eyes searching frantically through the smoke. Below, smoke was mushrooming upwards in a roiling cloud and clumps of dirt rained down all around.
Where was Sheila?
A voice sounded in the distance, "Chris! Sheila's team is down!"
Wasting no time, Chris scrambled up as other fireballs could be heard sounding off in the distance. "I'm going to get her."
Suddenly appearing by his side, Les latched onto Chris' arm, trying to pull his friend back towards the trenches, "But it isn't safe with the bombardment. Hold on a sec."
"The hell with what's safe. Sheila's hurt." He shook his friend off. Crouched over, Chris began to run along the edge of the reservoir, shouting over his shoulder, "Get everyone back into the trenches and take cover!"
He half slid, half fell, hastily descending into the reservoir. Gravity worked with him, pulling him down faster than he would have liked for safety reasons. He prayed that he wouldn't trip and end up tumbling down the some twenty odd feet to the bottom of the blasted pit and breaking his fool neck.
As he skidded to the bottom, he quickly scanned the area. Sheila's team was in tatters. Bodies lay unmoving to his left and right. Swallowing his fear, he pressed on, the smoke so thick he could barely breath. Reaching down, he gently turned over one of the bodies closest to him. The body – a young man about Chris' age – looked up at him, blue eyes unblinking. The fatal fireball had struck the middle of the young man's back, ending his life instantly. Hands trembling, Chris let go, letting the body fall back into its face down position.
Another fireball landed six feet behind him, hurling wood and clods of dirt in all direction, some of it pelting him in the back. Dropping on all fours, he peered through the thick smoke, desperation making him yell, "Sheila! Sheila! Where are you?" His voice caused some demon on the other side to aim for the sound and Chris rolled to his left, narrowly missed being targeted by the fireball.
"Chris-"
The thin, reedy voice came from up ahead, just to his left. Hope sprung to his throat, almost choking him with relief. Still crawling, Chris inched his way towards the voice, past the other members of Sheila's team – all dead. He began to dread what he would find. Dry-mouthed with fear, he swallowed hard. In his head, he could hear Les asking him telepathically:Is she all right?:
She was lying in a ditch, her back twisted in an unnatural position. Her right arm was bent crookedly over her head while her left lay limply by her side. All around them fireballs were still being hurled, creating geysers of dirt strewn upwards upon impact as the ground shook beneath the onslaught. Her upper body was half covered with dirt and wooden debris covered the lower half of her body. Sobbing, Chris pushed himself next to Sheila, reaching out to brush the dirt gently from her face. "Sheila?"
Her voice was so weak, "Chris...tell Darryl...tell the kids..."
"No! No! Everything's going to be okay, Sheila. I'm going to get you out of here." Tears streamed down his face as he tried to manoeuvre himself behind her. Wrapping his arms around her upper body, he tried not to think about her back, which was obviously broken. He knew moving her would only cause irreparable damage but there was no alternative. "Just hang on, damn it! Don't go, don't give up. You can't! Darryl needs you. The kids need you."
With enormous effort, she lifted her head to stare into Chris' green eyes, "Tell..them...I lov-" And with that last effort, her head fell forward onto her chest.
:Chris,: Les' thoughts were in his head. :Is Sheila okay?:
Chris' entire body began to shake. He wanted to deny the evidence to his senses, to close his eyes against the sight of his good friend lifeless. But he couldn't. Burying his face in her hair, he sobbed, "Oh god. Oh god. Please don't go. Please don't go. Oh god..."
:Chris! We have to book! We can't hold them off! We've got to get out of here!: Les' thoughts were staccato-like in his panic:Get Sheila and move!:
He shook her slightly…uselessly, "Come on, Sheila! Don't do this! Don't go! Hang on! Please, no...please...oh god..."
:Chris!: Les' voice reverberated in his head, the frantic tone coming through clearly. :Chris - we gotta go!:
He couldn't deny it any more.
She was gone.
Pulling himself together, Chris released his breath, shuddering. Reaching down, he grabbed her left hand, pulling off her wedding ring. He gently closed Sheila's eyes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. Wiping his eyes, he began to crawl back towards the others. He glanced one final time over his shoulder at her before turning away. There was no way he could drag Sheila's body back across the line with him, no matter how much he wanted to. Explosions thundered all around him as he slowly crawled on his belly back towards the wall of the reservoir. He began to run up the steep climb, counting on the thick smoke and his prayers to get him to the top of the reservoir safely.
As soon as he reached the edge of the reservoir at the top, he once again dropped to his belly, crawling towards the trenches. Finally, as he reached the line, he felt the strong grasp of his team members wrap their hands around his arms, pulling him into the trenches. He wiped away his tears with his sleeve, leaning his back against the trench wall, looking into the faces of his friends. In the background, he could still hear the thundering of the fireballs as they rained down, causing the ground beneath their feet to tremble and shake upon the impact.
About to ask where Sheila was, Les abruptly snapped his mouth close as he looked into Chris' eyes. Staring at Chris' tear streaked face, Les knew the answer to his question without a word spoken between them.
Chris closed his eyes, shaking his head. "She...oh god." He rubbed his face wearily, "What am I going to tell Darryl? What am I going to tell their kids?"
They couldn't afford to lose control of the complex. It was connected to the underground tunnels, and ultimately, to base camp. Emptying himself of all emotions knowing he would pay later for it, Chris pushed his grief to the back of his mind. Shaking himself slightly, he gathered himself. Looking into the eyes of the scouts and engineers surrounding him, he gave his orders crisply. He was relying on Les' telepathic abilities to send his request for reinforcements to Darryl at command central.
Straightening his shoulders, he began directing those with experience in armed conflict, whether they were scouts or engineers. He saw the fright in the eyes of the innocents who had little to no experience in armed conflict. There was no way he could reassure them. They had been taken by surprise and the scout contingent that had accompanied them had been the bare minimum.
As the scouts fanned out along the trenches, Chris positioned himself in the middle of the line. Peering over the ditch, he could see the other side clearly from the flames that angrily engulfed the partially rebuilt bridge. Grimacing at the depressing sight of all their hard work going up in flames, Chris wrenched his gaze away, scanning for their attackers. He could hear the sounds of battle in the air. The high pitched whine from the fireballs being hurled at them and the resulting thunder as they pounded into the ground creating craters in the soft dirt.
Using his telekinesis, he redirected as many fireballs back across to the other side, limited to line of sight. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. He hoped that they would not have to engage the enemy but it would depend on how long he could keep returning fire.
Chris' face twisted with the effort of using his telekinesis. There were too many and only one of him. He could feel a headache coming on rapidly; a clear indication that he was pushing himself beyond his limits.
Les shook his head, closing his eyes as he 'received' a message. "Darryl's mobilizing a team as we speak. We might actually get a break. Apparently there's a scout team in the vicinity performing some training…they'll get here in another twenty minutes. Can you hold them off that long?"
"Don't have a choice, do I?" Chris retorted harshly, the sweat now pouring down his face. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, waving with his hands left and right, returning fire.
Dirt rained down on them, pelting the Resistance fighters in the trenches as one of the fireballs escaped Chris' notice and pounded the earth nearby. Luckily, no one was hurt. The group sat huddled in the trenches, their bodies pressed up against the side of the trench as they waited nervously for reinforcements. Les could taste the fear in the air. They were outnumbered and 'outgunned'. If Chris collapsed before the reinforcements arrived, it was unlikely that they would be able to hold their own.
It was one of the things that had learned in this war with magic. Magic did not have an endless supply. Using their powers, casting spells…they took energy from the user. In the early days of the Resistance, more than one scout or witch had either incurred a severe headache or collapsed from excessive use of their magical abilities.
Les kept one eye on Chris and the other on the enemy lines. Unlike Chris' telekinesis, if Les wanted to use his powers to avert fireballs he had to drop into a light trance. Not an ideal state to be in the middle of a battlefield. Plus, he was a touch slower than Chris with his telekinesis, another drawback of telepathy. Chances were if Les had to be the one to turn aside the fireballs, more than a few would have already broken through their defences. No – Chris was the best option right now. He could only pray that the kid could hold out long enough for help to arrive.
Chris' entire being was focused on the scene in front of them and keeping their team alive until help could arrive. But Les could easily see that the use of Chris' powers were beginning to take its toll. His face was gray, his eyes bleary. Most alarmingly, it appeared that Chris hadn't even noticed that he had bitten through his lower lip as blood welled from the self-inflicted wound.
On the other side of Chris, Zach opened his mouth to stop his friend from using his powers before he passed out. Signalling Zach with his eyes, Les shook his head. :Chris is right – we don't stand a chance if he doesn't keep those demons from advancing before our reinforcements get here.:
:Then one of us should help him! We're both telepaths – one of us could still keep in touch with communications while the other can use their abilities to redirect some fireballs.: Zach argued.
:Don't you think I thought of that? But we need to reserve our powers in case Chris can't hold out until help comes. He's holding his own for now.: Les said evenly. As much as he hated seeing his friend under such pressure, Les knew it was the right move for all concerned. Seeing Zach's mutinous glare, Les replied wearily :That's an order, soldier. Do I make myself clear?:
:Fine: Zach's 'tone' was biting.
About to form a retort, Les abruptly snapped his mouth closed as Chris' voice broke in hoarsely, "Les – you're going to have to catch…"
"What is he talking about?" Zach asked, anxiously, as he observed the paper white pallor of Chris' face. "Les?"
Les knew what Chris was saying and asking, "You falter, I catch. I'm ready." Sparing a quick glance at Zach, Les ordered, "You're in charge of communications as of now." Girding himself, Les prepared to 'take over' from Chris. Zach fell silent as the implication of Les' order sank in. Chris was tiring and Les would have to take up the 'mantle' of returning fire.
He was breathing heavily, like he had just finished running a marathon. His limbs felt heavy and he could feel a pain in the back of his skull, pounding away in rhythm with the barrage of fireballs.
I've got to stay focused. I've got to hold on, Chris thought, desperately. Help is coming. I've just got to hold on a little longer.
He bit his lip, tasting blood. The pain helped him focus that tiny bit longer.
In the background he could hear the frightened murmurs from the team…innocents mostly – they were unprepared for the grim reality of battle and warfare.
The pain in his head was so great, he blacked out temporarily, fighting to hold onto his consciousness. His hands were clutching the edge of the trench wall so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Please…please, I just need to hold on a little longer. I promised that I would keep them safe. Please let me keep my promise.
But then he had already broken that promise, hadn't he? Unbidden, an image of Sheila floated to the surface of his mind. Her body broken, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring up at him.
If I'm not home by then Darryl will never let me out again…Oh god…Chris wanted to weep in frustration. Oh god…I'm sorry, Sheila. So goddamn sorry.
His ears were ringing now and he could feel the lethargy in his arms. It seemed like the barrage was coming faster and faster, but in reality he knew it was his reaction time slowing. It was unlikely that he would be able to hold on much longer and with help yet to arrive, it would fall to Les to step up to the plate, "Les – you're going to have to catch…"
The world spun as his knees trembled and gave out. Crap! I overextended myself, Chris thought with disgust.
And before he could hear Les' reply, he collapsed.
Zach could hear the startled gasps from the others as Chris collapsed to the ground. He could see Les dropping into a light trance as the telepath took Chris' place. Unfortunately, Les wasn't as quick as Chris and the fireballs began to explode in closer proximity. Seeing the fear in the eyes of the innocents, Zach yelled, "Everyone take cover! Stay low to the ground!" Gesturing with his hands, he directed his scout team to get ready as the engineers cowered on the floor of the trenches. If help didn't arrive soon, they would have to engage the enemy. And he didn't like the odds of that.
Les was already tiring quickly. He was breathing heavily and the barrage of fire continued to rain down in greater intensity. Gritting his teeth, Zach opened his mouth to tell his scouts that it looked like they would have to fight, when he felt a tickle in the back of his mind.
"Holy bloody Mary mother of god," Zach shouted aloud. A couple of his scouts threw him a questioning look. "We're saved! Reinforcements are here!"
A cheer went up from the scouts and engineers alike as a sudden flood of scouts entered the trenches. Best of all, Zach recognized his friend Duncan. "Thank God! Someone with offensive magics!"
Chuckling, Duncan quickly made his way next to his friend, "And I brought friends. Okay guys – let's show these demons real magic!"
The area was once again secure, with the occasional fireball flung over from the other side to break the silence of the deadlock. Chris had been revived, although he was still exhausted and pale from the excessive use of his powers. His headache was almost enough for him to want to smash his skull against a wall until the ringing in his ears ceased but he knew there was nothing he could do about it until they got back to base.
Leaving the situation in Duncan's capable hands and his company of scouts, Chris and Les had left with the engineers to head back to base camp. Another plan would have to be formulated on how to gain access to the train station. For now, Chris was content to minimize further loss of life by defending their side of the area only.
Once back at base, Les had disappeared to update Darryl on what had happened…with the exception of Sheila.
That was one responsibility that Chris couldn't delegate.
He thought he was beyond his capacity for pain.
First his parents...then his aunts...grandpa...
Now Sheila.
Chris had loved his honourary aunt. She and Darryl had been part of his family ever since he could remember – the closest thing he had to a family now, his only rather tenuous hold on to a connection with happier memories in the past. How was he going to tell Darryl? What would they do without her?
He had gone straight to his quarters - telling Les that he needed to see Darryl after he briefed him.
"Is that wise?" Les had asked. "Are you sure you want to be the one to tell him?"
"My responsibility," Chris had replied. "My responsibility, my burden. Tell Darryl that I want to meet him in his quarters after you're done briefing him."
Splashing some water onto his face, he looked at himself in the mirror. His face was calm…expressionless. All traces of the dirt, tears and sweat were washed away. His eyes, still slightly red rimmed from the tears, fell away from his reflection, unable to maintain eye contact with the stranger with his face staring back at him.
Absently, he wiped his face with a towel, his heart heavy. He winced slightly for his head was still pounding. Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, Chris tossed the towel into the nearby hamper and crossed his quarters to the door. Pulling it open, he steeled himself, throwing back his shoulders. He strode out into the hall, nodding absently to passers-bys…he envied their ignorance at that moment. Inside, his emotions were in turmoil – grief, rage and despair warred within. A scant ten minutes later, he stood outside Darryl's quarters.
He knocked on the door.
"Yes, come in," Darryl yelled.
Go on, Chris thought. It became a silent scream in his head. Open the goddamn door, you bloody coward, he berated himself. He placed his hand on the handle, noticing that it was trembling. Clenching his fist, he forced his hand to still and pushed against the heavy steel hard, hearing it squeak open slowly.
"That you, Chris? Les told me you wanted to talk with me. We'll have to come up with another strategy to secure that bridge," Darryl was shuffling papers at his desk, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm the identity of his visitor. If he had spared a moment more, he would have noticed the hesitation in Chris' posture. Instead, his back to his guest, Darryl waved his hand at one of the chairs at the table behind him. "Make yourself comfortable. Sheila's out on a supply run but she should be back soon. She wanted to talk to you about increasing the rations to the children. She thinks they aren't getting enough nutrition and she's afraid that they may fall ill. It's bad enough we have to keep them all underground without access to the surface. Lack of sunlight can't be good for them."
Chris remained posed on the threshold of the doorway, unable to bring himself to enter the room.
Darryl finally noticed that Chris hadn't moved from his spot and raising his head, he turned to face his friend. He had been slow to notice the expression in Chris' eyes. They were filled with pain and grief...and sympathy? "Chris? What's going on?"
"It's Sheila," Chris croaked, hoarsely.
Darryl felt the dread hit his stomach like a lump of lead. His face showed apprehension as he choked out, "Is there some...problem with the supply run?"
"The supply run was in our area…the area where we were building the bridge…"
Darryl paled. "No…I thought I checked…they were suppose to be in the north side of the city canvassing."
"I…I don't know why they were there…but they were there," Chris shook his head. "And then…Les told you…we were ambushed...it all happened so fast..."
Angry, Darryl demanded, "What happened so fast?"
"I'm sorry, Darryl...there were too many demons...we never saw them coming..."
"What are you saying, Chris?" Rage driven by fear, Darryl reached out and grasped Chris' shoulders, shaking them hard. "Spit it out, goddamnit!"
"She's gone, Darryl. She's gone. I'm sorry," Chris whispered. "I'm so goddamned sorry."
Darryl's eyes widened with disbelief, Chris' words hitting him like physical blows. He recoiled at their impact, pushing the whitelighter away from him, staggering over to his chair. Supporting himself against the back of the chair, he sucked in deep breaths, trying to hold himself together.
The room was silent save for the breathing of the two men.
"How?"
Chris was confused. "Sorry?"
"How did she die? Was she...in pain?" Darryl turned his face towards Chris, silent tears running down his face. "Alone?"
Chris shook his head. "I...I reached her, but I couldn't do anything. I was too late. She...her back...she told me to tell you...she loved you."
Darryl drew in a shuddering breath, his eyes closed.
"I know..." Chris paused, hesitantly. "I know nothing I say can make this pain go away. But I thought...I thought you would want this..."
Opening his eyes, Darryl watched as Chris outstretched his arm towards him, his right hand turned upwards, his palm open. In the centre of his palm lay a ring.
Sheila's wedding ring.
Gently plucking the ring from Chris' hand, Darryl nodded his thanks, his eyes teary. "Thank you. And now...I think I'd like to be alone."
Nodding, Chris turned to leave, knowing he could do no more to comfort his friend. "Darryl - if you need to talk..."
Cutting him off, Darryl said brokenly, "I know. Just...when the kids check in…can you send them home to me? Someone has to tell them about...their mother. And I'd prefer not to do it through…communications…I…think I should tell them myself."
"Of course," Chris replied, quietly as he closed the door behind him. Alone in the hallway, Chris lowered his head. Swiftly he walked back to his own quarters, ducking inside before anyone could see him. Shutting the door securely behind him, he made his way over to his bed and abruptly sat down. He had promised himself, long ago, on the night he had discovered that his brother had murdered his family that he would never cry again.
After all, crying changed nothing.
Holding his head in his hands, he cried for five minutes, remembering his friend and her chocolate cake.
To be continued….
And answers to some of your questions…
Have you read the Tomorrow series? Nope. I'll add that to my already incredibly long list of 'books to read'.
Have you read Dune or Brave New World? I think I read BNW a long time ago (memory is very hazy beyond 24 hours). Errr…does watching the Dune mini-series on TV count?
How do you make your chapters so long? I've discovered that I'm incredibly long winded. Seriously? Discipline – I don't post till I have a certain number of pages. Which explains the long lag time between updates and my carpel tunnel syndrome.
When will Bianca betray Chris? I have no idea when (or if, or how for that matter…) she'll betray him as I didn't extensively plot this story out like the others. Your guess is as good as mine at this point!
Is Sheila going to die in chapter 6? Your wish is my command…just kidding – I actually had Chap 6 pretty much written even before I started writing Chap 5.
