Soundtrack: The Forgotten – Green Day

These warehouses had always given Harold the creeps. He scanned the horizon through his glasses: thirteen warehouses in total, all painted in the same dark green and showing signs of weather and age. Root paced up and down, eyes looking intently down at the grey stony floor. Harold watched her. He stood still as a statue with his hands tied in front of him. He looked down at them then traced the thin chain to Root's hand. He shivered. He looked back at the warehouses: in some of them were his vast music, book and art collections and in others he didn't know, he had always suspected something sinister though: at the height of TyRon, 500 offenders were getting executed each day but the bodies just seemed to disappear. As Harold stood below the warehouses, he had a uneasy feeling following through his veins. These warehouses had always given him the creeps.

Root's head snapped up as car rumbled lowly in the distance. She stood up straight and still as the large town car drove closer. It slowed to a stop. John climbed out of the driver's seat and opened the back door, he glared at Root as Zoe, gracefully, climbed up out of the car and turned to Root. Root's breathed heavily through her nose, her anger tangible. John and Zoe stood level with the bonnet of the car. Silence spread between the pairs as they looked at each other. Root smiled first and took a step towards Zoe. John immediately drew his gun stopping her in her tracks.

'Calm down John. I'm not going to hurt her.'

John lowered his gun and let Root walk over to Zoe. They stood level, but Zoe being the taller mistress looked down into Root's brown eyes. Root smirking into Zoe's hard eyes and straight mouth.

'What's here Miss Morgan?'

Zoe strode past Root and towards one of the warehouses. Root followed her with Harold close behind. John filed in after Harold. John looked at the back of Harold: it was weird seeing him not dressed in a suit – this, these plain blacks were far too casual and some would argue sinister for a man like Harold. Zoe unlocked the heavy lock and slid the door open. She flicked on the lights and walked into the belly of the warehouse. It was covered from wall to wall with thousands of hospital beds, each with its own unconscious patient wired into various machines all quietly gurgling and humming away. Root walked further into the room and gasped, she dropped the chain keeping Harold close to her as she slowly walked around in circles gasping and trying to comprehend the sheer size of what she saw before her. John kept his eyes and gun trained on Root. Zoe stood at the entrance looking at the floor, Harold's eyes flicked between the vast room and her face.

'These are all the people you made disappear?' he asked Zoe quietly.

She nodded then looked up. 'Before you go in, I want you to know I'm sorry.'

Harold looked puzzled then walked into the room. He walked up and down the aisles looking at all the comatose people in the beds. They all looked so similar to one another: fragile white skin and matted dirty hair, all with eyes closed and parted lips. As Harold walked further into the room he began to feel like he recognised some of the faces.

'Stanton is over here.' Called Zoe. Zoe walked into the vast room and down a few aisles, Root walked after her, John followed leaving Harold alone at the far end. Zoe turned left up one of the rows and stopped at one of the beds. She turned to Root.

'Here she is. I'll be by the door.'

Zoe strode past Root and John, her feels clicking on the floor.

'Why?' Zoe stopped and turned to face Root. 'Why her?'

'I was simply following orders, same as everyone else. You can touch her, but she'll die if any of the instruments are disturbed.'

Zoe turned on her heel again and left. John looked at Root.

'Are we even now? You got what you wanted.'

Root's voice failed her as the tears welled up in her eyes. She nodded, John nodded his reply and respectfully left her. Root looked down at Kara, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, she smiled and ran her fingertips down her cheek.

'Hey.' She choked out.

John jogged to keep up with Zoe. Zoe looked at him and smiled.

'All done?'

'All done.'

'Thank you John.'

'We'll keep tabs on her, keep her safe.' he paused. 'Zoe, what are these people doing here?'

Zoe hesitated before answering, thinking hard about what she was going to say. She didn't look at John, she couldn't. 'It was the easiest way to manufacture large of TyRon easily, it's made up of various body chemicals and antibodies. We need live bodies to create them, these people are the farm animals, the cattle so to speak.'

'But they're not needed anymore, why are you keeping them alive?'

Zoe looked at John sadly. 'I'm not a killer John. I couldn't live with myself.'

John didn't press the subject further: he understood what Zoe meant – killing someone is one thing, living with yourself afterwards is another. Silence spread between them. They stopped at the doors and Zoe smiled, she glanced down at John's shoes as a sheepish smile spread across her face.

'What?' John asked, noticing her smirk.

Zoe lifted her head up. 'Just this. You, me, living the highlife. Who'd have thought it?'

John chuckled. It was true, time was John was homeless and Zoe was his soup vender. A far cry from where they stood now in their expensive, tailor made clothes and lavish lifestyles.

'You better go and find Harold, I'll see how Root's doing.'

John nodded as Zoe walked past him, he sent off in search of Harold. He walked the many aisles and rows of beds, his mind wondering at whom all these people were and why they needed to 'disappear'. John turned up another row and what he saw stopped him in his tracks:

Sat in a chair next to a bed was Harold, he was leaned over the person in the bed and grasping their hand, whispering to them, hushed whispers with the occasional sniff – Harold was crying. John silently stepped forward, silent as a panther. He listened carefully, it felt wrong to intrude but he had to know, just had to. As he edged closer, he saw the small female figure and splash of red hair on the white pillow. It couldn't be.

'Hello Grace. Um… I don't really know what to say. I've missed you, so much. I was wrong to walk away and for that I'm sorry. I was young and I was foolish and I should never have walked away. I am forever grateful for what we had; I honestly don't think I'd be here if it wasn't for you.

'The day I read out your name, I lost part of myself. The world was grey and… it lost its meaning. Although we hadn't spoken in years, I missed you. I wanted to talk to you but didn't know if you were ready to talk to me; I didn't want to trap you. I treated you awfully and I have been punishing myself ever since for that. My only hope now is that you can forgive me, forgive me for being foolish.

'Grace… I've found someone and… I think I love them. I haven't told him. Things were going well and I messed up again, oh Grace I've been so foolish. He'll never want me back. Ever since I met him, I've felt more human than I have in years. He connects me to the world and makes my world a better, a happier place. I don't see why he wants me, he can do so much better than a middle aged cripple.'

'But it was a middle aged cripple I fell in love with.' John wrapped his arms around Harold's shoulders and kissed his cheek.

'Oh John.' Harold's eyes fluttered shut as another tear rolled down his cheek. 'I am so sorry, I should never have shouted at you or expected you to do that. I should have asked you…'

'Shhh it's ok, I know you mean well.'

Harold stood up quickly and grabbed John's hands holding them close to this chest: they were inches apart. Harold looked at John's large hands in his.

'Will you take me back?' He looked up.

The look on Harold's face took John's breath away. Harold had taken down his rock solid barriers and bared all his emotions to John. John leaned down and pressed his lips to Harold's. His eyes fluttered closed as they melted into the kiss. They broke the moment, catching their breaths.

'Yes. Yes I will.'

Harold glanced at Grace's sleeping form on the bed, her thinner body and it's almost translucent skin, he reached over and turned her machine's off before turning himself into John's strong open arms.

'In my heart you will always stay, loved and remembered every day. Rest In Peace Grace.'

Zoe and Root watched them from afar.

'What will you do with them?' asked Root.

'I don't know. Walk away.'

'And just leave them?'

'You can't take her away, she'll die.'

'Let me look after her, all of them.'

Zoe looked at Root. 'You'd do that?'

Root nodded and smiled tightly.

A forest clearing created the stage: a small overgrown lake sat centre stage surrounded by fledgling trees and plants. It was early evening, the sky turning a beautiful mix of pinks and oranges with white colours coloured pink with the after burn from the sun. This was a private place, a secret garden. Harold and John stood shoulder to shoulder, both in black suits with white shirts and ties. A trilby sat on his head and a dark purple scarf around his neck; Grace had a matching scarf. Before them, standing in the ground, were two crosses with brass name plates on them. Both had flowers laid at their feet: one for Grace and one for Joss. They two men stood in silence and absorbed the calming sound of the wind and the distant chirp and rustle of animals. The gentle wind rustled their hair and nipped at their cheeks. The world was a different place now but what it had been haunted both men so deeply – their action haunted them so deeply but their actions were part of who they were now and the world was better for having them in it.

Harold looked at the cross and at the tiny details in which Grace's name was etched. He never really knew her, the real Grace beneath the kink and sex. He sighed, if only. She saved him from himself and gave him a way to understand the world, he'd been young and foolish but he knew better now. He'd always be thankful to Grace for saving him, but the regret of not doing enough would always be there. His gaze then moved to Joss, he hadn't known her long but he cared. Everything had happened to quickly and in his heart, he knew he failed her. Joss was right when she said it's safer to live alone, maybe she'd still be here if she had. He took off his hat and bowed his head. He closed his eyes.

Where in the world did the time go?
It's where your spirit seems to roam
Like losing faith to our abandon
Or an empty hallway from a broken home

Well, don't look away from the arms of a bad dream
Don't look away, sometimes you're better lost than to be seen
Don't look away from the arms of a moment
Don't look away from the arms of tomorrow
Don't look away from the arms of a moment
Don't look away from the arms of love…

So this is the end. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Much Love x