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Behind the Veil of Shadows
by kaeera
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Chapter Four: Furry friends and family
Whilst watching your brother from an invisible point of view had a sort of excitement of its own, the novelty soon wore off. Scott fell silent very quickly, just sitting by his brother's side, lost in his own thoughts. John knew the feeling very well; had been prone to it on more than one occasion. How many hours had he spent like that? His mind leaping in circles – one second worrying, the next remembering the most insignificant things about the injured person, character traits, habits, favourite food, anything...
The blonde had no doubt that Scott was going through the same ordeal. And, so John mused, he deserved to have some real privacy for it. He already felt bad for intruding, knew that Scott would be very embarrassed about his emotional outburst – but on the other hand, John was glad he had heard it. His oldest brother was a very private person, and he would never have said those things if he had imagined that his brother could hear him. John had been witness to something very precious; and he hoped this particular memory would stay in his mind no matter what.
Scott's privacy wouldn't last long, anyhow, knowing his family – soon they'd be crowding round John's bedside.
Let's just hope I manage to return before that.
Which was why he found himself wandering again. He was almost glad when he stumbled upon Schnabelewopski; it was a nice distraction from the depressing thoughts that kept going through his head.
"Oh, there you are," the old guy nodded as if greeting a passing acquaintance. "Well? More enlightenment for ya?"
"Very funny." John didn't grimace, but he came close. "I visited myself – well, my body, or whatever you might call it – and watched my brother."
Schnabelewopksi nodded wisely. "Ahh. Family. Yes. Very important. It's amazing what you can overhear when they don't know you're there. Did they gossip about you?"
"No!" The mere idea of his family gossiping like a bunch of old housewives was ridiculous.
"Bad luck. It's always nice to get some juicy titbits to blackmail them later."
The astronaut rolled his eyes. This was so typical – he was pretty sure that the guy had been a living plague when he was still alive. Schnabelewopski wasn't a bad man– just a very, very annoying one. There probably was a good heart somewhere under the gruff exterior, he guessed, but so far, he hadn't found it.
"It was a very sad and solemn visit, if you must know."
"I 'must' nothing, kiddo." Schnabelewopksi whacked him with the walking stick. "Be polite to your elders!"
"Ouch!" John rubbed his shin. He was pretty sure that there was already a bruise forming...well, there would have been, if this body had been real...but it hurt nonetheless. "Stop doing that!"
"Stop doing what?"
"Hitting me!"
Schnabelewopksi grinned. "Me? Hitting you? You must be mistaken. Did you forget that we are incorporeal? How could I hit you? You can't even feel pain!"
John threw his hands in the air and shook his head. That moment, Schnabelewopski reminded him very much of Gordon. The copper-haired Tracy had the same way of smirking when he knew that he was pulling one over you and you couldn't do anything against it. With the only exception that Schnabelewopski looked a whole lot meaner and uglier.
"Oh please," John said in a resigned tone. He had learned a long time ago that resistance was pointless. In fact, giving the impression that he didn't care at all was the best shield against such antics.
True enough, Schnabelewopski chuckled, but didn't hit him again, changing the topic instead. "We sure do have a lot of traffic today. Just met another one like you."
"You did? Another one who is out of his body?" John as curious. "Where is he? Can I see him?"
"Sure you can. Ya can do anything you want. But ye won't find it much help; just a little brat, that's all."
John's stomach sank. "A child?"
"Yep. Little girlie. Six years, tops."
The blonde's heart went out to the mention of the girl. It was bad enough being stuck here as an adult; how frightening must it be for a child? She wouldn't even understand what was happening – why she was unable to talk with her parents, why nobody noticed her...it would traumatize her!
The decision was quickly made. "Where is she?"
Schnabelewopski raised an eyebrow at him. "What, the brat? Last time I saw here, she was hiding under a table in the waiting room."
John resisted the urge to tell him off for his rudeness. "Will she be able to see and hear me?"
"She should be. It depends on her, really. Some people work themselves in a frenzy – don't see anything, until they fade. But those never last long. A couple of minutes, half an hour at the tops."
"Alright." John set his face and marched towards the waiting area, which was considerably less crowded now that the worst of the disaster was over. A loud clacking sound told him that Schnabelewopski was following him, but he didn't really care. There was a child that needed help; and for a moment, that shoved the hopelessness of his own situation out of the way.
He scanned the people in the waiting room, hesitating as he saw several children. They didn't react to him in any way, so he guessed that those were real ones – however macabre that sounded. But soon enough, he glimpsed a small, huddled form under one of the tables. A questioning look in Schnabelewopski's direction told him that this was indeed the aforementioned girl.
With careful steps, he walked over and lowered himself to the ground. The girl was a scrawny little thing; her navy blue shirt torn and covered in blood, her jeans ripped open and filthy. Her black hair hung limp across face, which was covered in scratches. She was clutching something against her chest, so tightly that it was impossible to make out what it was – and she looked awfully familiar.
"Hey." John said in a soft voice.
Green eyes snapped open and stared at him. The girl looked ready to bolt, and John couldn't blame her. He had probably looked the same a couple of hours ago. And then it hit him why she appeared familiar; it was the girl he had seen on the gurney, on his first venture through the hospital.
"I won't hurt you," he promised and inched a bit closer. "My name's John. What's yours?"
She eyed him warily, unable to believe that this stranger was really talking to her. Everybody else had been ignoring her so far.
John smiled, doing his best to look innocent and trusting. "I know you are pretty scared. Something weird happened to you and me, and now we are stuck. Nobody else can see you. But I can. And you can see me." He stretched out his arm and willed himself to be as solid as possible. His fingers touched her shoulder, causing her to flinch. "You see? I'm real."
The girl nodded and wetted her lips. "You...can see me?"
"Of course." His hand closed around her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. "Won't you tell me your name?"
"C-Cassie."
"That's a beautiful name." John slowly slid into a sitting position beside her. "So Cassie, can you tell me what happened to you?"
She clutched the thing even tighter – it was some sort of stuffed toy, John reckoned, and tried to make out a shape, but the light under the table wasn't very good.
"I was shopping with my Da." she announced in a trembling voice. "And then everything was loud and fell down and then I hurt!"
"Oookay." It was probably fruitless to question a six-year-old about something as complex as that. She probably didn't even understand the concept of death...
"So tell me, Cassie, have you by any chance seen your...er, a girl that looks very much like you? Lying in a hospital bed?"
John needed to make sure how badly she was hurt, and for that, he needed to see her body. Damn, that sounded...wrong.
Cassie looked at him. "It was like a dream. There were people in white coats." She paused to think. "You don't have a white coat."
"No." The blonde smiled. "I'm not a doctor. Just someone who's here to help."
"Fuchur helps me." There was the slightest spark in her eyes which encouraged him to prod further.
"And who is this Fuchur?"
"He's my lucky dragon!" was the proud reply and true enough, a small, stuffed dragon was pointed into his direction. The animal looked like it had suffered more than its owner. Ruddy and dirty, the toy looked like it had been used as a oil rag. Both wings were ripped off and there was a hole in his tail where the stuffing was coming out.
But John knew about the importance of toys (Alan had once gone ballistic when his stuffed pig had disappeared) and he didn't even crack a smile. "He sure looks like a fierce dragon to me."
"He does, doesn't he?" Pride shone in the pale little face. "And he's supposed to bring me luck."
Well, maybe Fuchur was taking a day off when this earthquake happened; I wouldn't exactly call this a result of luck.
Schooling his expression, he managed to look impressed. "I bet he does."
Cassie looked a bit more relaxed, so John took the chance to let his eyes run over her. She didn't seem in any pain, though her clothes were blood stained. Well, that was to be expected. After all, her body was elsewhere, so she shouldn't be in any discomfort.
Whoa, finally I found one advantage of being a spirit – you don't need to bother with your body. But then again, that means you miss the good stuff, as well...dammit.
Now that he thought about it, his headache had disappeared as well. It only came back when he really had to think about something – or maybe it was a sign? Maybe something was happening to his body whenever he had a headache?
This was certainly a train of thought worth pursuing, but right now, Cassie held more importance.
"So, did you and Fuchur meet anyone in this hospital?" John asked in a casual fashion.
"I saw my parents." A dark cloud passed over Cassie's face, and poor Fuchur was clutched tighter than ever. "But...but they ignored me! So I ran away...it was mean of them!"
John winced. The poor girl. "Your parents didn't want to be mean. They simply didn't see you."
"That's stupid! I'm here!"
"I am, too." John searched for the right words. How did you explain to someone that he was severed from his body? And to a small child, at that? "But you and me, we both had an accident. Something happened to us – we were hurt, badly – and now nobody can see and hear us."
"Oh." Cassie frowned. "Am I dead? Pete's cat died last month. We poked her, but she didn't move."
"No, you're not dead-"
Hell, this was difficult. For the first time in his life, John was at a loss of words. "But you need to find your way back to your b...life, and your parents. Where did you see them?"
"In one of those ugly rooms on the second floor. I walked down here all on my own." she added with a touch of pride.
"That's great." John turned over his shoulder to see Schnabelewopski ogling a petite nurse. That guy...a sigh escaped his lips.
"Would you come with me? I'd like to see your parents. Maybe we can find a way to get you back to them." He held out his hand. Cassie took it eagerly.
"They're not mad at me?"
John swallowed against the lump in his throat. "No...no, not at all. Believe me. They'll be very happy once you go back to them."
"Okay." Cassie agreed amiably and crawled out from under the table, careful not to let go of her stuffed dragon. Her hand disappeared in John's big one, but she didn't seem to mind.
Schnabelewopski had noticed their progression and, after one last glance in the direction of the nurse's décolleté, strolled over to them. "What'cha doing, kiddo?"
"Taking her up. I want to find out how bad it is."
"Gee. You can't do anything, anyway." The old guy shrugged. "It's all up to her. She has to fight her way back."
John felt a surge of cold anger. "She is just a kid!"
"So what? From my point of view, you are just a kid, as well. What do ya want to do, shove her in the right direction?"
The statement hit, more so because it was true. He didn't know what he could do; he just wanted to help her (because it was what he did!), and if it only meant comforting her in a way he could, then so be it.
With steel-blue eyes, John levelled his gaze at Schnabelewopski. "You know, I don't really care about your egoistical ramblings. My job is it to help and rescue people; and that's what I am going to do, no matter where or what I am."
He tugged Cassie forward, who had been following the exchange with wide eyes. "Come on, Cassie; we're going."
"Alright." She stayed close to him, a lost little girl, her only link to reality a small, battered toy dragon.
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The sight of Cassie's body was almost worse than seeing his own. Maybe it was because she looked so small in the huge hospital bed. Maybe it was because her father was sitting in a wheelchair close to his daughter, cheeks glistening with tears. Maybe it was because Cassie stood just outside the room, where he had left her so that she wouldn't be traumatised.
Or maybe it was because she didn't belong here, should instead be outside playing, letting Fuchur fly through the air, running around and being alive.
Children didn't belong here.
The helplessness was the worst. What could he do? How could he bring her back, make sure that she'd survive?
He couldn't, and that thought nearly killed him.
Cassie wasn't attached to a respirator – that was a good sign, wasn't it? - but she was on oxygen and her face looked far too pale. There wasn't an inch of her skin that wasn't swathed in bandages. Even if she survived, this girl would have a helluva road to go.
Just like me.
He had studied her chart. Cassie had slipped into a coma as well, but hers hadn't been caused by a head injury. Instead, it was a combination of blood loss and lack of air. The information wasn't very detailed, but apparently Cassie had been buried and the air supply had run out, leaving her on the brink of death when they finally found her.
But...that was good, wasn't it? At least her brain was intact, which meant she wouldn't have to deal with any mental handicaps. Her body, though...well, John was no doctor, but the road to recovery would be long, though he really did believe that she would be fine.
Provided she managed to return to her body.
Sparing one last glance at the worried parents, he stepped out of the room again. Cassie had huddled down on the floor, her face buried in the dragon's chest.
"Hey." John tried his best to sound encouraging.
"I want to go home," came the wavery reply.
"I'm sure you do. I want to go home as well." The blonde didn't like how dejected Cassie looked. The situation was getting to her. Distraction was needed. John immediately slipped into his role as a comforter. "So, what's your home like? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Sniffle. "No."
"Really? That must be great. I have four brothers. That can be pretty rough."
Green eyes peered out from under the dragon's fuzzy frame. "Do they all have golden hair?"
"Oh no," John chuckled and placed himself on the ground, close to the girl. "Only one of them is blonde like me – Alan, the youngest. The others have different hair colours."
"Oh." Cassie contemplated this. "Are they nice?"
"Most of the time."
She held out her stuffed dragon. "Do they have a friend like Fuchur?"
John, caught off guard by the question, had to laugh. "No...no, I'm afraid none of us has a guardian as brave as Fuchur. Though we did have something like that when we were younger."
"Really?" sensing a story, Cassie inched closer.
The astronaut nodded, as he remembered the times when his brothers had been toddlers. "I had a bird; I reckon it was an owl, or an eagle. She was called 'Maia', after a star in the Pleiades – that's a constellation on the sky." A smile fluttered over his face as he thought of his beloved stars.
"As for the others, let me think...Alan – the youngest, you remember – he had this massive black pig which he would carry everywhere. I think it was called Mr Hanky, but don't ask me why. Virgil had a teddy bear; what was his name again? Ah yes, Doolittle, just like the character of the story. And Gordon...what did Gordon have?" He frowned, trying to remember. Gordon had always been independent; had there ever been a time when he had needed a comfort toy?
"But yes, of course! Gordon's furry friend was a blue dolphin – I should have known that immediately."
"What was his name?" Cassie listened in rapt fascination.
John searched through his memories. "Starfish, I believe. We tried to convince him that it wasn't a starfish, but he wouldn't listen. Always a bit of a pighead, that one. Said that when a dolphin jumps out of the water, it wants to reach the stars, so he's a starfish." He smiled. "I liked that explanation a lot."
He wondered where those stuffed animals had ended up. After growing up, the boys had discarded their toys, feeling too old to need them any longer, and they had probably been thrown away. Which was kind of sad, really.
"What about the last one?"
"Huh?" thrown out of his reminiscing, he didn't know at first what she was talking about.
"Your other brother."
"Oh – Scott?" John scratched his head. "You know, I have no idea. He's older than me, so he probably gave up his stuffed animal way before I can remember...but that's a good question. I've got to ask Dad about it once I get back."
Cassie giggled, pleased that she had helped in some fashion. John was relieved to see that the haunted look had left her eyes, at least for now. Sometimes he envied children for being able to forget so easily.
The black-haired girl leaned back, her hand stroking Fuchur absently. John could almost imagine seeing the wheels turning in her head and smiled involuntarily. This one was tough, that was for sure; and smart as well.
"Having fun?" a voice snarled behind him. Schnabelewopksi again. Damn him.
"Just being friendly." John looked up at the old man. "And you?"
"Doing what I always do. Say, shouldn't you be looking out for yourself instead of helping some kid? I thought you wanted to go back no matter what."
There was that rush of anger again. "The kid's name is Cassie, and right now, she needs my help." For him, that was explanation enough.
Schnabelewopski watched him with a gleam in his eyes. "I see. I reckon she's already being pulled – look at her colours."
"What?" John jerked his head around and true enough, it seemed as if the colour was leaking out of Cassie, making her pale and shadowy. Just as he had seen it before, shortly before...
"Cassie!" John exclaimed, the lump of ice in his stomach increasing. Panicked, he shook her by the shoulder. "What are you feeling?"
Unfocused green eyes stared at him. "It's like a dream..."
Remembering Schnabelewopksi's warning, John took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. "Cassie, I know that this is hard on you, but please listen. You want to go back, don't you? You want to go back to your parents? You have to think about it with all your power – can you do that? Come on, think about your parents...and your home, your friends, your favourite food..."
She nodded, just as her whole frame seemed to flicker.
Seeing that she was trying, John nodded. "Tell me about them. Come on, Cass, tell me. What do you like doing the best?"
"I'm...learning to ride a bike."
"That's great! And you want to go back for that, don't you?"
"Y-Yes."
"Think about how much fun it is, Cassie. Think about how great it will be when you can ride your bike and you can go everywhere with your friends."
A weak smile fluttered over her face. "Down...to the sweet shop...whenever I want..."
And then, with a snap, it was over. The colour streamed back into Cassie's face and she was there again, whole and aware. Still in her spirit form, of course, but at least she hadn't vanished. A look of confusion crossed her face and, almost out of instinct, she snuggled up to John, seeking whatever comfort she could find.
Confused himself, the blonde threw a questioning glance at Mr Schnabelewopski. To his surprise, the old man was smiling. "Ye just won a major crisis there. Good job!"
Being complimented was such a far cry from the usual rough behaviour that John blinked in surprise. "But...she's still here."
"Yeah, but she didn't die, either. I reckon they had some sort of crisis with her body – heart failure, lack of oxygen, who knows – and she won, at least for now. You pulled her back."
"I didn't..." John felt very lost. Had he condemned Cassie to a livelong existence as a spirit?
Schnabelewopski seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't'cha worry. She'll be fine. She's going in the right direction. I'd worry more about yourself, if I were you."
John didn't reply. He worried about himself, too.
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He and Cassie had been playing 'I spy' for hours, and yet neither of them showed any sign of tiredness. How long had they been awake? He didn't know. The night had long passed and they were nearing the early hours of morning. It was another one of those eerie signs that showed him how screwed up everything was. Unable to feel real pain, exhaustion. Unable to be.
At around two a.m., his father had arrived, clad in his IR uniform, followed closely by Grandma Tracy.
John had watched them for a while, Cassie in his trail (she had grown quite attached to him), but after a while, the air had gotten too heavy and he had left, unable to bear it any longer. Seeing his family in pain was much worse than sitting here and taking care of Cassie.
Much to his relief, the girl's body wasn't far away from his own. They were both in intensive care, their rooms only a couple of corridors away from each other. John had chosen a position in the middle; a corner with a couple of chairs in it, where they could sit without disturbing anyone. Or better, without someone walking through them, which had scared the living daylights out of Cassie the first time it happened.
"I'm bored." the girl stated, expressing what John felt. Spying on people lost its appeal after a couple of hours.
The blonde sighed in frustration. "Me, too."
"Where did the funny grandpa go?"
Assuming she meant Schnabelewopski, John shrugged. "He's been on and off ever since I've been here. Don't worry about him, he's just an old cot."
"You shouldn't say that," Cassie reprimanded. "Ma tells to always be polite to elder people."
"Believe me, he's the exception to the rule." John leaned his head against the wall. The tense feeling in his stomach had been growing stronger and stronger, and it had nothing to do with physical pain.
The more hours passed, the more anxious he got. What if the separation of his body was permanent? And how could he help Cassie? Her parents were desperate, and the girl herself didn't fare any better, judging from the tight grip she still maintained on her dragon.
Hopeless. The situation was hopeless. And worst of all, he couldn't even do something; instead, he was sitting around, counting the tiles on the floor and nearly crawling up the wall in frustration.
"John?"
"Yes?"
"Are you an angel?"
The question caught him totally off-guard and he blinked. "What?"
Cassie remained patient. "An angel. You are one, right?"
"What makes you think that?" Despite everything else, a smile lit his face. "No, I'm not an angel, just a person, like you."
"But you're helping me. And nobody can see you. Ma always says that angels help people. And you have golden hair."
The last argument didn't make any sense, but then again, few things did. "And you think angels have blonde hair?"
"Not blonde. Golden." Cassie seemed annoyed at this rather slow angel-adult. "You're going to bring me home, aren't you?"
The sheer faith in her voice made him feel uneasy. He couldn't exactly promise...and yet she looked at him with these trusting eyes. John was torn.
"Oh, okay, golden then," he gave in, his heart heavy. "But Cassie, I'm really not an angel. I'm just-"
They were interrupted by a shrill alarm coming from further down the corridor. Both their heads jerked up and they watched as a nurse hurried towards the sound, followed by a doctor. Suddenly, there was an awful lot of commotion, and John realized with a feeling of dread that it seemed to accumulate in front of his room.
Oh shit.
"Stay here," he told Cassie, trying to hide the rising panic, and got up to investigate.
A doctor was shouting orders, and then there were a lot of people, running, shouting, disturbing the (relative) peace of the hospital. John's heart pounded in his chest, and he felt the old headache ebb up again. Damn. Damn. This wasn't good.
"You've got a problem, boy." Schnabelewopski materialized beside him, giving John a start, his face grim.
John sent a glare in his direction, then decided it was better to ignore him. He closed his eyes, concentrated and stepped right through the wall. He didn't like doing this – it made him realize just how bad his situation was – but with the door already crowded, there was no other way. Stepping through a nurse or one of his brothers was unthinkable.
The inside of the room was dim, only his bed illuminated brightly. The doctor was examining him, checking his pupils, looking worried. Then she barked orders to the nurses, who promptly started wheeling the bed out of the room. John shivered as his own body moved past him, frozen in time, appearing just like a corpse. The urge to run away grew imminent, and yet he stayed, couldn't help but watch with morbid fascination.
Scott was there, inquiring what was happening, and then his father, an overwhelming presence and yet so helpless. John couldn't bear to see their anguish and so he almost ran after his bed, determined to find out what was happening.
"Angel John!" Cassie's voice stopped him in his tracks. She had followed him, Fuchur clutched to her chest. "Where are you going?"
"I'm not-" He shook his head. "I gotta go, Cassie, there's something happening and I need to be there..."
"Don't leave me!"
Her eyes, so frightened, brimming with tears. John only had to look at them for a second and relented. "Alright, you can come with me, but be quick!"
Cassie slid her small hand into his. Schnabelewopski – somehow managing to be just where the action was - snorted at them both. "If you keep that up, boy, you're going to be a goner sooner than you think."
"Shut up," John gritted out, nearing the end of his patience. He had lost sight of the doctor and wanted to find her again.
"Kiddo, you're reaching a breaking point. Focus on yourself."
Some part of his mind told John that maybe Schnabelewopski was only trying to help him. That he actually cared about his well-being, wanted to nudge him into the right direction. But the other, much more prominent part was frustrated, confused, and getting very, very angry. It was all too much; he had to care for Cassie (without even the slightest clue how); he was afraid of dying; and then the constant reminder of the pain he was involuntarily causing tore at his nerves.
"I'm focusing on whatever I like." John almost snapped. "And Cassie is the one who needs help! Like I said, it's my job to save people, and if I have to give up my life to do it, then dammit, I'm going to do it!"
Cassie was shocked. "Angel! Swearing is bad!"
The two men looked at the girl, who regarded them indignantly. Then John burst out laughing. "Oh Cassie, you're priceless!" He ruffled her hair, glad for the small lift of his spirits. "Thanks for reminding me. I shall try not to do it again!"
He turned to Schnabelewopski. "And you keep out of this." The astronaut warned, his finger raised. "You might feel all mighty and powerful, but frankly, I don't care. I don't belong to International Rescue for nothing. I've faced death more times than you, and I know how to deal with it. So stop nagging me; I need to find out what's happening to myself and Cassie."
Schnabelewopski opened his mouth like a fish, but no words came out. Instead, he huffed n indignation and slammed the walking stick on the ground. "Alright, kiddo. If that's the way you want to play it."
"It is." John grabbed Cassie's hand tighter.
In silence, the trio marched towards the area where the examination rooms where located – CAT, MRI scans, EKG, EEG, plus various other machines that weren't frequently used. They had missed seeing to which room John had been brought, so they had to check each of them.
When they finally found it, Jeff Tracy was already standing there, having a hushed conversation with the doctor. John inched closer, not liking the lines of worry in his father's face.
"...scanning him right now, but I fear we have to operate."
Operate? John paled. Had he taken a turn for the worse?
Jeff Tracy pinched the bridge of his nose. "But didn't you say that his breathing...?"
"I know. His breathing isn't as stable as we'd like, but if we don't do it now that won't matter anymore. I don't want to lie to you, sir, the young man is gravely injured. He is suffering from a brain haemorrhage, and the pressure is increasing. It might do significant damage to his motor functions – and maybe even inflict permanent mental damage - if we don't do something now."
"How good are the odds?"
Silence. The cold feeling in his stomach increased, and almost out of reflex, his fingers crushed around Cassie's, who winced in pain.
"Not good, I'm afraid. If his lungs weren't injured, I'd say they were okay, but with him already weakened and dependent on a respirator, there might be unforeseen complications. However, without the operation, he will almost certainly die, or be mentally disabled. So...as I understand you are in the position of next of kin for my patient, do I have your permission..."
His father sighed and nodded, eyes bright with worry. "Go ahead. Do everything to save him."
The slight tremor in his voice was all it took to shatter John's heart.
To be continued...
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And now you were introduced to Cassie, the other occupant of the twilight zone.
The toy dragon she owns is named after a character in a book – 'The Neverending Story' by Michael Ende. The original Fuchur (I believe the English translation of his name is 'Falkor') is a luckdragon ('Glücksdrache' in German) – a species of dragons that has no special magical strengths or abilities, but incredible luck. A luckdragon's typical answer to how it is going to accomplish a nearly impossible feat is always "With luck".
I thought, given Cassie's position, it would be nice for her to
have a companion who's supposed to bring luck to everyone who's his friend. Plus Fuchur never gives up and never loses hope – the spirit of International Rescue!
