A.N.: Well...I'm just so proud of myself for updating earlier than I originally planned. Aren't you as well? *smirk* So anyways, I cleared up my whole entire afternoon and dedicated it toward writing this chapter-not really, I got sidetracked: but you get the point.
Anyways, I think I already have a sequel planned. I have a rough idea, might need a few tweak and such, but I have it down. Actually, I was originally planning to have Alex go live with the soldiers, adding a cliche on a cliche, but then I changed my mind. So yeah, stay tuned~~
Still have some more loose ends to take care of, but I will still stick with the three or so chapters left thing.
With that, let's move onward!
While the general public might think of the explosion at the church an act of terrorist, anyone passing by the scene, with the police tape wrapped all around and barriers established, and peak into the forests would realize that it might just be something else entirely. Soldiers swarmed the place and the debris and fallen trees were being heaved away, carving paths to any possible survivors that were still trapped beneath them.
It almost seemed to any possible onlookers who happened to see the scene that they were looking for something or someone. It rained on the second day. It was a heavy pour. All wooden planks and stone were wet after the rain, though the soldiers searched through the rain nonetheless as if the rain was merely an illusion. The search gradually ceased after a little less than a week as if they had given up. The tapes were still there but the metal barriers were set down. Civilians were taking pictures and MI6 was trying their best to not let any information leak. All that the citizens knew was that a gas leak from the nearby compound caused the explosion. Nothing more, nothing less.
The Cathedral was an ancient place. Even though it wasn't anything fancy comparing to a royal palace, there were still valuables in them. The mosaic pieces, the ancient pedestal, some sort of surviving wooden plank from the side of the high dome, most of them were valuables. And undoubtedly, it attracted people.
Patrick Williams E., a collector of all sort of things and currently living in the cheapest apartment available in the area, was one of them. It was just like the rainbow after the rain, there were undoubtedly treasures, something that he would like, buried amongst the debris that the soldiers he saw through the cracks hadn't retrieved. It was at night when he made his move. He would easily be caught in the bold daylight. The night goggles he found a few years earlier came in handy quite often.
He made sure that no one was near before he stepped over the caution tape easily without brushing against it. He wasn't thieving, not at all, he was merely collecting the ruins of an ancient architecture.
Patrick lit up a faint flashlight, setting it to low power before sweeping it across the ruins.
"Aha!" He muttered delightfully as his gaze settled upon the small piece of broken mosaic that reflected the light from his flashlight.
He bent down and retrieved it, brushing away the dirt, and held it up to his eyes, shining a flashlight upon it. Beautifully colored and carved. He slipped it into his pockets. He could probably sell it for ten or twenty pounds, and that was enough to sustain one or two meal. He didn't eat much, and that was good.
Patrick's gaze settled upon the charcoal black compound next to the cathedral. What was the building for? A building next to the compound… Gas explosion… Was it a power generator? But right next to the cathedral? He supposed that it made sense, seeing that there were lights literally everywhere in the cathedral at night. It will need enormous energy to sustain it. They might have some leftover metal pieces that he could sell to the back-alley metalsmith. That man always welcome any trades with metal.
Patrick crossed to the building, careful not to step on the uneven debris. The whole entire building was burned, or more correctly exploded, to the ground. He could barely make out the stone doorframe on the ground and the shards of the metal door. He picked up a piece and tapped it. It sounded hollow. Good enough. He would come back with a bag tomorrow to gather up the pieces.
Taking a step forward, Patrick glanced around at the remnants of what was once the frame of the building. Even as he watched, a plank fell from overhead and landed in the heap beneath. He stepped a little further, shining his flashlights carefully around to make sure that he wasn't stepping on anything that would fry him to death.
The building interior didn't resemble a power plant. There weren't anything he saw that resembled one. Shouldn't there be those, what-was-it, turbine engines or something like that? Patrick shone his flashlight forward. There was a corridor that had somehow remained standing, at least most of it was standing. He could see a faint light coming from the end, illuminated by the moonlight casting from above. Should he…?
"Why not?" He grunted as he wrapped his coat around himself tighter. No one was here, this was the perfect opportunity. There might be something better buried deeper within.
Plunging into the corridor, he lit up the flashlight by a level. No point in hitting something in the dark. He heard the drops of the rain leaking through the cracks. Suddenly, he heard something and stopped.
Straining his ear, he listened. Nothing.
"Weird," Patrick muttered to himself as he continued forward.
The sound came again. Sounded like someone breathing.
Patrick took a deep breath, his heartbeat speeding up just ever so slightly. He didn't believe in ghost or haunted mansion stories. Being a collector meant that you get to see a l-
The soft exhale drove away all thoughts from his mind and they fleeted in hurry, leaving his mind blank and his heart thumping just a little louder.
"Who's there?" He called, shining his light.
Realizing his mistake too late, he clamped his mouth shut. If it was a personnel with authority, he could surely get in trouble for crossing the police tape without their approvals. He slowly backed away.
The breathing came again, this time a little louder. He swore that he heard a small gasp.
Didn't sound like a police or a soldier.
Patrick crept forward slowly. A cat? No, it sounded humane. A survivor? It had been almost a week, no one could survive a week without food or water.
As he walked further, the ceiling above him ended, letting the moonlight shone upon the debris, planks, and stones around him. He turned his flashlight off and stood still, listening for the sound.
It came again, this time closer.
A walking ghost. Patrick felt his heart at his mouth. Turn back, he ordered himself, turn back. But he merely stood there, rooted to the spot.
"Who's there?" He called softly again, "Come on out."
No response, except for a small breath again. It sounded almost laborious.
Patrick crept toward the general direction of the sound, "Hello?"
Just the breath in response.
Patrick walked closer, his hand curling around a small broken plank he picked up from the ground. Self-defense, he thought as he leveled the plank in front of him in a pretty pathetic stance.
"Is someone there?"
This time, a small gasp responded to his question. Patrick faltered slightly as he glanced at the debris pile in front of him. Was someone buried beneath it?
"Are you stuck?" Patrick tried, feeling his heart eased up a little. Probably harmless. Probably.
No response.
"Hey, um, I-"
"…Hel…p"
Patrick froze. Someone was trapped beneath the pile. They were calling for his help. Should he help them…? Shaking his head at his pause, he attacked the debris. He shouldn't be wasting time when someone's life was in danger. He threw down the plank and pushed away the top stone with a grunt. Survivor, someone was under here. He had to help.
"I'm getting you out," Patrick said hurriedly as a soft grunt came beneath him.
He had been a firefighter for a decade during his bright days before he left to become a collector, having not much money to support himself. He remembered the bright smile from the survivor's family after the survivor was brought out from beneath, he remembered the tears of sadness and of joy shredded for people they love. That was one more reason as to why he quit. He didn't want to be burden with nightmares of being unable to save lives.
The soft whisper for help almost automatically brought them back: his instincts, and memories of the past days.
Keep them talking, he thought to himself, "Hey, you still there?"
A short grunt.
"Okay, yeah, what's your name?"
No reply, not that Patrick expected one. The male, he knew that it was a male because his voice was a little too gruff to be a female's, was probably too weak to respond to any question except to grunt.
"My name is Patrick," He continued, "I'm gonna get you out of there, so wait for a moment."
He ripped away the first layer of crisscrossing planks and removed the stones. He still couldn't see the survivor.
Patrick lit up his flashlight and shone it in the darkness. He thought he saw an arm. He was close. Leaving the flashlight on the side, he dug on.
"Know who you are?" Patrick asked with a grunt as he kicked away the large stone that he couldn't push with his hand, "Know where you are?"
A soft groan.
Another layer cleared. He carefully avoided the large nails sticking out of the planks and pulled them apart. It was tough work, and he was not physically suited for it at the moment. Patrick pushed the plank away and shone the flashlight down again. The planks beneath his hands were wet and soaked with rain.
"Hey, can you hear me?"
A soft inhale.
"Good, because I can't really see you, but I can kind of locate you. Are you stuck? Grunt if you are, nothing if you aren't?"
A very distinguishable grunt.
Patrick wiped his hand on his pants beneath continuing, "That's alright. Ah, there, I think I saw you. Can you move your arm a little?"
The arm underneath the flashlight twitched ever so slightly.
When Patrick finally pulled away the last plank, he was unsure what he saw at first. He reached forward and tugged the male's arm up, careful not to get themselves tangled in the planks and nails. When he uncovered the his face, he inhaled sharply. It was a boy.
The boy's brown eyes met his for a moment before they drifted shut, unconscious.
At least he was alive.
Bear woke to the soft beeping of the monitor beside him. Without even opening his eyes, he knew that he was in a hospital.
It was quiet. Cracking open one of his eyes, he realized that the room was too bright. He shut his eyes immediately.
Bear heard the sound of a blind being pulled across the pole and someone clearing their throat, "I just pulled the blind over."
Bear opened his eyes again, adjusting to the light, and turned to the figure beside him, "…Snake?"
"Wolf sent me to watch over you," The medic of K-Unit said as he set down the magazine in his hand, "I'll get the doctor."
Bear grunted.
He remembered everything clearly, unlike the previous few occasions where he woke up groggily, unclear to what was happening.
Funnily, there were only acceptance in his mind whenever he thought about his unit. His former unit.
"How are you feeling?" The doctor walked in at the moment.
"A slight headache," Bear admitted.
"That is normal," The doctor nodded, "It will pass away pretty soon."
"How bad?"
"Your right leg is fractured and your arm was scorched. There were also lacerations and slashes across your torso and body. We managed to bandage those up."
Bear grunted.
"Other than that, you're fine. Take it easy for the next few weeks and I'll see when you can be dismissed."
Stays in hospitals were unpleasant but Bear nodded nonetheless. No point in talking back to a doctor. Who knows what they would do?
The doctor left after he checked the monitor to make sure that everything was okay. Snake glanced at him, "You remember everything?"
"Yeah," Bear nodded, "Up till the point in the helicopter."
He paused, then something Agent Belworth said came back to his mind, "Where's Coyote?"
"You said you remember everything," Snake's voice was calm and neutral, and that puzzled Bear.
"I don't know what happened after the explosion. I only know snippets from the helicopter," Bear corrected himself.
"I see…" Snake trailed off as if he was hesitant.
Just like Agent Belworth had. Bear swallowed as the ideas came back, whispering and bashing his head, "He is dead, isn't he? He's dead."
Snake jerked up, "No, of course not!"
It was as if a stone was being lifted from his chest and suddenly he could breathe properly again. He closed his eyes. Fuck. He didn't know what he would have done if Snake had said that Coyote was…dead. He lifted his hand and draped his palm across his eyes. His hand felt rough. Ferret was right. Damn Ferret. Suddenly, he knew. He knew that he couldn't endure if Coyote was dead. The simple truth was literally right in front of him. Just like with Ferret and Leopard, he didn't know how much he depended on them until they…slipped away, quietly and silently, into the night. He would never be able to talk to them again, to enjoy their time again as soldiers. He wondered what would happen to him. Would he get sent to form another unit and begin everything again? Memories flashed and he knew that he was afraid. Afraid to go through the experiences again. Even before, he knew that being a soldier meant death, fatalities, and pain. He had hardened himself against it, but the wall had slipped away during his time with them.
He felt wetness on the hand that laid across his eyes. Bear shook his head as he swallowed painfully.
Bear had to talk to Coyote. To mend everything he had done. He couldn't…he just couldn't…
"I'm sorry to hear about Ferret and Leopard," Snake spoke up softly.
Bear just shook his head.
At that moment, someone else walked in. Bear moved his hand and opened his eyes. It was Wolf. He was unprepared for what he saw. The man had heavy bags underneath his eyes as if he hadn't slept for centuries. His eyes looked hollow and he was massaging his temple as if trying in vain to get rid of a headache.
"You look bad," Bear finally broke the silence, "Something happened?"
Wolf glanced at him and Bear was shocked to see the sudden fury that lit up the man's eyes, "You-"
"He doesn't know about it," Snake muttered softly but Bear still caught it. Know about that?
Wolf faltered for a moment before he angrily turned, his fist raised and clenched tightly, but before the soldier could slam it against the wall he let it drop back to his side slowly as if out of energy. Something must have happened, to reduce the tough leader Bear knew to this man in front of him. Suddenly, the clenching of his heart came back and he found himself dreading all sort of possibilities again.
"What happened?" Bear pressed.
Wolf spared him a glare, "None of your business."
Bear didn't insist any further but he did flare a little in irritation. How dare Wolf speak to him in this condescending tone?
"Where's Coyote?" Bear asked as he turned toward Snake. He missed the way that Wolf's shoulders tensed and his fists suddenly clenched again.
"He's, uh," Snake said, "in the hospital."
"How badly was he hurt?"
"Oh, he wasn't hurt too badly. He's already out. He just left the hospital a few minutes ago," Snake quickly replied.
"I wish to talk to him," Bear said, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"He went to get something to eat, but he might be back a little later," Snake reassured him, "I'll ask him to come talk to you."
"Alright," Bear nodded, satisfied at least.
Wolf, without a word, left the room. The door slammed shut behind him and Snake visibly winced.
"What happened?" Bear couldn't resist and asked.
"He might tell you later when he's better," Snake said, not meeting his eyes.
"I see."
There was a long silence between them before Bear broke it again, "Did the sergeant mention anything about switching unit?"
"Not yet," Snake shook his head, "But I think the sergeant has something in mind already."
Bear nodded slightly and Snake stood up, "I'll go talk to Wolf. Rest well."
Swirl. Click.
Then Bear was left alone in the white room. The sun was rising slowly and steadily until its glaring ray. It was warm, but he couldn't help but shiver. It was cold.
After the boy was rushed to the emergency room did Patrick finally relaxed. He slid down onto one of the benches and buried his head in his hands with a groan. Completely drained and tired down to the last bone.
"Sir," Not a moment later, a white-coat doctor came up to him, "Are you his…father?"
"What? Oh, no," Patrick shook his head, "I…" He trailed off. Suddenly a little uncertain if he should really tell the truth. Why was a boy in the compound at the time? The boy definitely was in the building before the explosion. But why? Did the boy cause the explosion?
"Sir?"
"I'm actually his guardian," Patrick smiled, recovering in time, "His parents are out traveling so I am taking care of him."
"I see," The doctor said, a touch of suspicion in his voice, "Did you inform his parents about it?"
"Yes, I had," Patrick nodded, "But I couldn't reach them."
"He needs an immediate operation, and I need his parent or guardian to sign this," The doctor passed the document to him.
Patrick took the pen and the paper and scribbled his name hastily onto the form before handing them back to the doctor, "How is he?"
"I'll ask another doctor to tell you," The doctor replied, "I must get this in immediately."
"Of course," Patrick nodded hastily.
The doctor went through the door and a moment later, the light outside the room lit up. Patrick leaned forward and placed his head back on his hands. He was tired, yet he couldn't help but kept pondering about this boy. He knew that he didn't have enough money to cover the operation, and he didn't know where or who the boy's parents were. That was a major problem. He needed more money if he wanted the boy alive before he went to find his parents. Money didn't drop from the sky, he would need to find a way to get more money.
"Sir, you are his…guardian?" A voice made him look up.
"Yes yes, I am." Patrick nodded as he straightened.
The doctor sat down on a chair in front of him and leaned forward, clasping his hands together, "I'm going to be frank with you. He has lost a lot of blood. His right leg was crushed pretty badly. We might have a chance to restore it but we don't have a lot of hope on that."
"I see."
"We found numerous laceration across his chest, torso, and back," The doctor draw out slowly, "Did you…"
"No, of course not!" Patrick exclaimed at the accusation, "He went to the concert a week ago and the building exploded. He was crushed beneath it. I have only just found him. It pained me to see him like that. He was so…fragile back then."
The doctor nodded as if he was satisfied with the answer, "We detected a high level of rain water and we suspect that that was what kept him alive. The rain water wasn't clean enough and there were a lot of…toxic chemicals in them. We managed to clear those out so far. We have enough blood supply to put up with the amount he lost. It might be tough, but I think he will survive."
"Thank you," Patrick nodded his head gratefully.
"Do you have any questions?"
"Uh, where can I find a phone here?"
"Pardon?"
"A phone?"
"Just down the hallway. There's a payphone," The doctor said.
Patrick detected the slight disgust in the man's voice. He must have thought that Patrick didn't care about the boy.
"Thank you," Patrick nodded and moved down the hallway.
He would have to call his brother for some money to sustain the amount. After the boy got through the operation, he would need to sustain the boy by feeding him. Money, everything was about money.
Patrick dialed his brother's number. He picked up on the fourth ring, "Hello?"
"Shay?"
"Ah, Patrick," His brother greeted him and his voice wasn't exactly effusive, "Haven't talk with you for a long time."
"Yeah," Patrick was suddenly nervous, "Listen, can I borrow some money?"
"Borrow money?" His brother's voice suddenly turned cold.
"Yes, you are rich, right?" Patrick hurriedly said, "Just lend me some. I will return them."
A pause, then, "Do you know that the police officers came just yesterday and they demanded a complete search of my cruise ship as well as my personal home? They suspect that I have some dealings with those terrorist groups and that my cure was fake."
Of course. His brother, Shay. Shay Edmonson was the 'genius' who discovered the cure for cancer. Patrick knew that his brother hadn't at all, and wasn't even close to. He had seen his brother making deals with the terrorist group, Pirmors. He didn't know what the group got in return, but he didn't want to know any more about his brother's business. He might have waltzed into sealed-off police areas boldly, but he wasn't going to stoop to that low.
"Just a little money?" Patrick pled.
"How much?" Shay grunted.
His brother was reluctant to part with his money, not even one cent. Patrick knew that the man was only, reluctantly, willing to lend him money because they were family and they used to be the best sibling pair.
Patrick named the number. There was a moment of silence and Patrick was afraid that his brother wouldn't lend it to him, "Alright."
Patrick inwardly exhaled in relief, "Thank you."
"What's the money for?" Shay asked.
"I…" Once again, Patrick debated as to whether or not he should tell his brother the truth. He decided against it, "want to buy this-"
"I see. Well, I have just sent it to your account." Shay cut him off immediately and Patrick had to hide a smirk.
His brother was never someone who wished to listen to others ranting about what they want to spend their money on. That man was always self-central. Patrick wasn't surprised if Shay thought that he was the center of the world, heck, even the galaxy itself.
"But Patrick William Edmonson, see that you return everything."
Patrick winced slightly and his brother hung up. Checking his phone, he verified the amount his brother sent to him and hurried back to sit outside the emergency room. To his surprise, the doctor was still there.
"All done?" The doctor asked.
"Uh, yeah," Patrick stuttered out, feeling a little awkward.
"There is one more thing you need to know about him," The doctor said.
Patrick blinked, "What?"
"He is currently blind."
Was the boy blind even before? Patrick didn't know.
"I see…"
"Don't worry, it's only a temporary blindness. There is a high chance that it was caused by psychological stress and disorder. May I ask if anything happened to him…?"
"No, not that I know of," Patrick shook his head.
"His eyesight might have been damaged by being buried under the debris for so long," The doctor continued, "But psychological damage is what we are going for currently."
Patrick could only nod his head twice.
"He is stable, but not completely. We are hoping for a complete recovery, that is, with or without his eyesight or leg."
"Thank you," Patrick said as the doctor stood up and headed back to the emergency room.
He caught a glimpse of the doctors swarming around a bed and the pale boy in it before the door closed with a click.
Hmm, Actually, I was planning to add Alex's POV, but I realized that, meh, I will just squeeze it into the next chapter.
Review-Replies-Thing:
Logged in reviewers:
Personofmanythings: Thank you always for your reviews! As well as your constant streams of thank-yous! ^ ^
bubzchoc: You said 2 words, only two words, but I feel immensely happy afterward. Thank you ^ ^
Alicori: I'm glad that you like my story ^ ^. Honestly, I don't exactly know where my story is going, because I only have a very rough idea down and I usually don't hone my story down to the last detail before I begin, so inevitably, it gets crazy.
Peek-a-bloody-boo: Your username literally had me laughing. It's so simple, yet the way you put it was really hilarious to me!
Ravenclaw667: Feels. Feeltrip. Everyone's gotta have some time for feels. Haha. Yeah, when I was younger, I usually dump myself in the pile of feels from books, movies, anime, etc, and just sit there staring at the wall after I reread/watch them a few trillion times.
Riderkitty: I am really glad that you like my story. -
Fenryka: Thank you! I'll definitely try to keep up with the expectations! ^ ^
Ava Simbelmyne: Don't smash your keyboard! Okay, yeah, I might have accidentally 'killed' Alex in a few chapter past, but you see, I've somewhat revived him!
BlueCookies214: Me? Sadistic? Not funny? Oh dear, I think you've gotten the wrong person!
TheSilverHunt3r: My baskets of kudos are growing! Thank you very much ^ ^
Ravenclaw667: Internally screaming for 10 minutes? I'm very sorry. I hope your internal throat is not sored. Haha, anyways! Thank you for your review ^ ^
Taeh: Hmmm. A blind Alex? You're right, we can't really have that, can we? But *snaps finger*, this is the world of fanfiction. Everything can happen! (insert mentally disordered evil laughers)
Nightcrawlerfw: I am very glad that I managed to evoke emotions from readers. That's one thing I have been trying to improve for the past few years in my writing. ^ ^ Thank you.
Guest Reviews:
(there were so many guest reviews with names as 'guest'... Hard to distinguish, haha)
Guest (#1): Oh dear, you were rereading this instead of studying for finals? Oh jeez. This is bad. This is very bad. I pled not guilty!
Guest (#2): When you wrote famifctioning, I was extremely confused for a moment. Famifctioning? Family? Fam...fictioning? Oh, fanfictioning! Oh yes, definitely! I am really looking forward to writing more fanfics, to be honest.
LookingforAlaska: The person who Yassen was with? That's...well, I am not sure either, haha...I don't have every character planned out, to be honest. I usually don't like having an abundant amount of characters so I might just round up some previous characters and insert them there. But this character might just be new...Hmmmm
Guest (#3): Thank you very much for pointing out my grammatical mistakes with the tenses! Even though I did reread them a few times, there are still mistakes that I overlooked. ^ ^ I will definitely keep that in mind in future chapters!
Rebel: Alex dead? No. Of course not. At least not yet. I think.
Youya: "Is Coyote going to die? I feel like everyone's going to die. Oh my gosh. Woah." Your review had me laughing for a while, especially the part where you wrote 'I feel like everyone's going to die'. Maybe I did throw the cliffhanger a little hard last time. Haha, anyways. Don't worry, not everyone's going to die, uh, I mean, not a lot of people are going to die. Hold on, I mean, like, some people might die, but most people won't. Yeah...let's leave it like that.
Other Mentions!
Eldrich, ashi141, rolltide7, Anon, Mae, unicornbanksy, Sabreena, yummypie193, firesword01, 3A07.
Looking back, I can't believe that it had been 30 chapters already! Thank you, all of you, very much for your constant support for this story! ^ ^