Chapter Two Hundred and Three
...
"I'm just saying you could have said something sooner; I completely embarrassed myself in front of the Commissioner of Police because you didn't introduce him when he first got here!" Airborne said, arms folded over his chest and a boyish pout on his lips.
"I tried, but - "
"Ah, there's the saviour of the day! Oh, my, are we interrupting something?" Tasha asked, her eyes wide, mouth open in a perfect O, and her pretty painted nails raised to her pretty painted lips.
Magenta wanted to roll her eyes at the obviously fake tone and expression of concern, but Shifter knew that ruining her relationship with the media would be the worst thing for her career. No matter how many people she saved, it didn't matter if no one knew about it. She forced herself to smile in the way Jetstream had taught her, briefly wondered how many times Jetstream's smile had been this forced ache, and put her hands on her hips in a Dramatic Pose for the cameras. "Not at all; we were discussing the Blue Hearts' defeat."
Tasha didn't look as though she believed a word of Shifter's lie, but ignored her and turned to face Airborne, who had copied Shifter's pose subconsciously. "Airborne, how do you feel after today's win against the Blue Hearts?"
"What are you doing here?" Airborne asked.
It certainly wasn't the answer he was supposed to give, and Shifter desperately tried to think of something else to say.
"Aren't you a reporter for Maxville now? I saw your recent show on TV," Shifter added.
"Oh, I am, but I still live in Westville for the moment. I haven't found the perfect house in Maxville yet; I'm sure you know how it is, being the son of two famous realtors, Airborne," Tasha said with another pretty smile, touching his arm with her free hand.
Shifter was going to bite her hand off, never mind the news and lack of media support.
"Oh, me? No... well, I mean, I guess. There's lots of places in Maxville that need to be bought and sold, so I can, uh, find something for you," Airborne said, scratching the back of his head.
He swore he could hear music playing, just like he had with Gwen.
"You're going into realty?" Tasha asked, her eyes going wide at the potential scoop.
Realising what he'd said and done, Airborne quickly shook his head. "I don't know. Why don't we talk about the Blue Hearts instead? I'm sure you saw me defeating them on the new cameras that were installed," he added quickly, certain that several cameras were picking up his higher octave voice and blush-red cheeks.
"Oh, of course. This was a coordinated attack between the Green Spades and Blue Hearts. Do you think it was orchestrated by Jester or did the two gangs go out on their own?"
Airborne blinked owlishly. Who the hell was Jester?
"Jester sent their calling card to the police during the attacks; the police are checking it for fingerprints," Shifter said, glad she'd listened to the Commissioner while Airborne had taken Eddie to the hospital.
Tasha finally turned her attention to Shifter. "Well, that is news. Where did you hear that, Shifter?"
It took Shifter a moment to realise that Tasha had actually called her by the right name for once, and she took a second longer to relish the feeling before answering, "The Commissioner of Police told me himself."
"Interesting! The police stated they had no comment earlier, so now I know exactly who to question," Tasha said with a bright smile.
"You... you spoke to the police before me? Us?" Airborne corrected quickly.
"Oh, it was on the way here. You know I have to be efficient with my time to get the scoop on the biggest stories of the year! Will you join your parents at their realtor's estate, or start your own business?" Tasha asked.
"What about the Blue Hearts?" Airborne asked, close to desperate and heading fast towards annoyed.
She sounded just like his mother.
"Oh, like you said: I can get the footage from the cameras. I was hoping to interview you about the things that matter, Airborne," Tasha said with a pretty pout, leaning forward to touch his arm.
Shifter stepped forward, guiding Tasha's arm away from her boyfriend, her Hero, and forced herself to smile again. "We have to leave now and ensure that the Blue Hearts have been processed correctly. Goodbye, Tisha."
Tasha ignored the obvious retort of Shifter using the wrong name, and her pout turned to a grin. "Why, Shifter, it sounds like you don't trust the police to do their jobs. What do you think, Airborne? Your monologue earlier about police and their lack of care towards Westvillean citizens will cause quite a stir, I'm sure!"
Airborne felt like every drop of blood drained out of his head entirely and filled his heart until it was probably slamming obviously against his super suit with each beat. "W-what?"
"Well, the cameras don't turn off until the villains are taken away by the police, so we got every word. In fact, it's probably why my local counterparts still haven't arrived yet; they're all trying to get the big headlines in for tomorrow's run. I'm sure I'll have something even better, now that I know you're going to follow in the family footsteps. I do hope you'll have an exclusive interview with me, Airborne. The last one was such fun, wasn't it?"
Remembering the last "exclusive interview" that had caused him to be grounded and lectured on top of that, Airborne opened his mouth to argue that they had very different definitions of fun.
Tasha didn't let him respond, continuing with, "Of course, when you do become a realtor, you'll need a place of your own. We could have an exclusive interview at your own home, and get a tour of all of the features, wouldn't that be a grand time? I'm curious to see what your interior decorating skills are like; are they going to be the famous red, white, and blue, or will you go outside the Stronghold box?"
Getting his own place would stop him from being grounded or lectured, and he could do whatever he wanted! He could eat pizza five nights a week and no one would make him eat vegetables, and he could stay up all night, too. Airborne was stuck with that thought for a few blissful seconds.
"Airborne, we need to leave," Shifter said, turning to face him and ignoring Tasha and the camera person behind her.
Airborne recognised the angry look on Shifter's face - he'd seen his mother direct that same look at his father time after time, and wondered what he'd done to deserve such a scathing expression - and nodded. "Of course, Shifter. We need to assist the police with their work," he said, picking Shifter up and flying up and into the air before Tasha could say another word.
Tasha grinned up into the sky, following the small dot that Airborne became for a few seconds, then turned to her cameraman. "Roger? Could I borrow your phone?"
"Uh, my name's not Roger?" he said in confusion, tugging his phone out of his pocket and holding it out to her nonetheless.
"Is that so?" Tasha murmured, distracted as she texted Airborne's number.
This is Tasha; I'm using my cameraman's phone in the hopes that you'll see this. Please unblock my number, Airborne. I'm hoping I can be your first real estate commission! I promise I'm a sure thing ;)
Deleting the text once it had sent and handing the phone back, she glanced around the street, wrinkling her nose at the destruction and debris that still littered the ground. "Let's get out of here before we catch a disease."
...
"Bill? Uh, I'm awful sorry to interrupt, I just... I was told you have news about my Xander?" Faith asked after knocking on the doorway gently.
Bill looked over, surprised to see Faith at the hospital even though she was heavily pregnant. Then her words registered and he frowned. "Xander? I'm awful sorry, Faith, but I ain't found hide nor hair of him since I started lookin'."
G shifted on the bed, uncomfortable and not entirely sure why. He had seen the woman's pleas on TV, her children begging for their father, and none of it had affected him then. Now though, on seeing her in person, so very pregnant, and right there in front of him, G felt itchy under his skin. He felt like his heart was pounding too hard, but he didn't understand how or why.
"G? Are you all right?" Bill asked, taking a hand in his as the heart monitor beeped wildly.
"I know where he is. Or was, at least," he burst out, the feeling in his chest and under his skin lessening when the words were out.
"I beg your pardon?" Faith asked, eyes wide as she stared at him.
G couldn't bring himself to look at her and kept his gaze firmly on Bill instead. "Alexander William Jones, father of five, despite Faith's tubal ligation. When he was kidnapped, he fought back and broke H's arm. He tried to run and I-I... I tasered him. I used the super chloroform to keep him down, and drove him to the Montana facility for testing."
Bill inhaled, exhaled, and squeezed G's trembling hand. "Thank you for the information, love. Do you know anything about his tests?"
G shook his head, then stopped abruptly. "Mr. A received a report when I was in his office," he said, his voice as distant as the memory. "I don't... I don't remember a lot of details but he was happy? Pleased? Victorious? Yes, he got a report about babies; I'd forgotten about that," G murmured, rubbing his temples.
"Anything else, G? That tells us what happened, but not where he is now. The Montana facility was destroyed this morning."
"Destroyed?" Faith asked, her voice trembling but a core of steel beneath.
G had forgotten she was there, and by the look on Bill's face, he wasn't the only one.
"The facility was empty of people; I think there mighta been a rescue attempt, but I don't know... wait, I know someone who will. I'll be right back," Bill said, squeezing G's hand once more and squeezing Faith's shoulder as he passed by.
Faith and G looked at each other. Faith's gaze hardened and G looked away first.
"I ain't gonna forgive ya for what you've done to my husband and family. I want to know why."
"It was my job. It was nothing personal."
"It was personal the moment you took my husband from me and our family! Why was he chosen? Why now?" Faith demanded.
G glanced at her pregnant-swollen stomach. "A doctor's report came across my desk. You should find a new midwife."
Faith's eyes widened. "What? But... she... oh, that bitch!"
Bill returned a few moments later to see Faith pacing as she went into graphic detail about what she was going to do to her... midwife? "Uh, Faith? I apparently need to take you to a secure location. Can you come with me now or do you need more time to finish rantin'?"
Faith stopped pacing and ranting, looking over at Bill in surprise, her hand cradling her stomach. "You found him?"
"I'll tell you what I know on the way; we need to leave now or we'll be late. I'll be back for evening visitin' hours, G. Wait for me?"
G was somewhat terrified of the short woman who had threatened things he'd never even thought of while at the Super Bureau, and nodded. "Not going anywhere, Bill."
Bill smiled and hesitated for a moment before moving over to press a kiss to his temple. "Be good, you old goat."
"That nickname is still not funny, Billy," G muttered without heat or force.
Bill winked at him, then led Faith out of the room, both of them leaving the hospital as fast as possible considering the crowded hallways and elevators.
Faith felt like her whole body was vibrating as Bill drove her through Maxville, the destruction slowly starting to diminish around them. She kept herself occupied by counting office chairs as they headed towards the outskirts of the city. Faith had reached seventy-one by the time Bill turned into a driveway and stopped in an unfamiliar gravel parking lot. "Where are we?" she asked, looking around.
"This is a place called the Hive, according to my GPS. Someone's gonna be here to pick us up in a minute an' eleven seconds," Bill replied, re-reading the text message he'd received from Hourglass.
Faith counted as carefully as possible, determined to do something if they weren't met in a minute and eleven seconds. As she reached one minute, she saw a limousine driving down the road. Despite knowing she was going to be met by someone, Faith still felt surprised when the vehicle came to a stop in front of them, certain that the driver was mistaken or looking for directions.
A door opened and she looked inside, frowning when there was no one in the vehicle at all - the driver's partition was open and yet there wasn't a driver - and Faith looked over to Bill in confusion. "What's going on, Bill?"
"I don't rightly know, myself. I do know that's a Morton limousine. The shape is very distinctive."
"My apologies, my speakers were muted. Good afternoon, I am Erin, and I will be your driver today. Please get seated and buckled in. The seatbelts are extendable and padded to protect your stomach and child, Faith Jones. William, it is requested that you join Faith in the back," Erin added when he went to move to the front.
Bill gave a nod and moved to sit in the back of the limousine with Faith. "Are y'all allowed to tell us where we're goin'?"
"This information is not allowable according to my current permission settings. Please settle in; we will be there in fifteen minutes. Do you have a preference for Bach or Mozart?" Erin asked as the door closed and the limo pulled away and headed back towards Maxville.
Faith chose Mozart and tried to keep her focus on their direction and familiar sights so she could determine where they were going. As they re-entered Maxville, the windows became tinted and too dark to see out of, and the driver's partition closed so the view was completely obstructed.
"Thank you for your patience. We will arrive in ten minutes. There is an entertainment section available for your perusal. If you have any questions, please ask and I will assist immediately," Erin said pleasantly.
"My only question is where is my husband?" Faith muttered, trying hard not to snap at a computer that was in control of driving her around.
"He is currently safe and has been sedated to keep him calm. Xander continued to ask about you and your children. He then tried to refuse treatment to return to his family, despite the mental and physical trauma and abuse he suffered at the hands of the Super Bureau's scientists and technicians," Erin replied.
"What?!"
There was a brief pause. "My apologies; I do not think I should continue to answer your question. Your heart rate has increased to an alarming level, and I do not want an unexpected birth to occur in my back seat. Please follow the breathing instructions to calm yourself," Erin said, a screen lowering from the roof and displaying a ball expanding and retracting with breathing instructions included both audibly and in writing.
Bill guided Faith to follow the instructions, following them himself as he tried not to think about what Brie was referring to nor what his employer had done.
"We have arrived at our destination. Hourglass will meet you at the elevator in a moment. Please follow all instructions to keep yourselves safe both now and in the future," Erin said, the side door opening directly to the elevator bank.
"Can I do anything to help, Faith?" Bill asked, even as he hurried around to assist her out of the limo with a strong arm and steadying hand.
"Yes. You can take me to my husband," Faith said, her heart rate barely calmer and her voice as cold as ice.
"Yes, ma'am," Bill said with a nod, the elevator doors opening to reveal Sarah.
Sarah smiled briefly. "Hourglass sent me on her behalf. Please, follow me. I can take you through to Xander straight away," she said, holding the doors open for Faith and Bill to join her.
They both stepped forward without hesitation, the elevator doors closed a moment later, and then they ascended into the building. Faith tried to steady her breathing as she came ever closer to Xander and the truth about what those Super Bastards had done to her husband.
...
Grant stayed back as the Sylvan-Colores family surrounded Maleah in a riot of colour and noise. He was so focused on Maleah's unnaturally still body through the crowd that he didn't even realise Morana had escaped until she was escorted back into the room by Layla and Warren themselves.
After the last week of torture, barely seeing more than five people at a time, and only seeing white clothing, the noise and colour soon became too much. Even despite his own guilt, he couldn't stay any longer, and Grant moved to leave. As he did so, he brushed against Morana who was struggling to get out again, and Grant knew with complete and utter certainty what the reanimator's full power was and how to negate it entirely. Since they were trying to get her to resurrect Maleah, there was no sense in negating her power, but the firm knowledge of exactly what she could do with her full potential was better.
"Poison? Fire? Can I talk to you for a minute? It's important," Grant said when they both looked between him and Morana.
"Of course," Layla replied without another second of hesitation, and as she stepped forward with Warren beside her, Morana was encased in a cocoon of vines and long thorny stems.
When the door was closed behind them and the noise from the Sylvan-Colores family faded abruptly, Grant rubbed his temples, surprised to feel a headache looming. He was sure his power would take care of it soon enough, but despite everything that had been done to him in the last week, a headache seemed like the most ridiculous response.
"Are you all right, Grant?" Warren asked.
"Do you need something?" Layla asked when Grant shook his head in response.
"The reanimator... she's not at full power," Grant said.
"No, of course; we didn't expect her to be."
"How do you know?" Layla asked curiously.
"I think the... science experiments did something to my power and now I know what her full power will be. I swear, I'm telling the truth."
"We believe you, Grant; you don't need to worry about that," Warren said, squeezing his shoulder.
"You've never lied to us before," Layla said with a brief smile of agreement. "So, what exactly is her power? I assume it will be useful?"
"Should I be hearing this conversation?" Hyacinth asked, eyebrow raised as Zero led her down the hallway.
"Nope!" Zero quipped with a broad grin, opening the door and gesturing for Hyacinth to go before him. "She's not going to like the cocoon; be quick!" he said, slipping in after her and closing the door behind them.
Layla and Warren both turned their attention back to Grant, waiting expectantly. Inhaling, Grant reminded himself that these were his friends, not scientists, not people who would use him or torture him to get results. He exhaled, and told them of Morana's full potential power.
...
"How are you doing, old man?"
Walter blinked his eyes open and looked up at Layer blearily. His eyes widened and he frowned. "Better than you, young'un. Who gave you that black eye?"
"Lash. You should see what he looks like," Layer replied with a broad grin, wincing as pain throbbed at their blackened eye.
"Ah. Where is he?" Walter asked, looking around.
Layer shrugged. "Cops tore us apart and dragged him away to a different cell. Hope they forget about his lazy ass."
"He didn't help in the kitchen one time, Layer. Don't you think it's time to put this feud behind you?"
"The kitchen was on fire, old man, so no I don't think so. In fact, if he lives, I'll make the feud official and kick his skinny ass down the street."
"Lives? You don't think the police are going to kill us, do you?" Walter asked.
"Huh? Oh, no, not them. The... others might. Getting something buried in my body without my consent doesn't exactly lean towards them being merciful saviours, y'know?" Layer asked with a scoff, rolling his shoulder like they could still feel the vine and fire being buried through skin, muscle, and bone.
"Did you pledge?" Walter asked, his voice quieter as he glanced around.
"'Course I did, I'm certifiable, not stupid." Layer grinned, then frowned, and tilted their head. "Where were you all day anyway? Didn't see you out with the crowd, y'know?"
Walter smiled as he thought of his day. "I spent it with my family."
Layer's frown softened to a smile. "Lucky you. Bet you got some real food, too, huh?"
"I did. My daughter-in-law made her famous cornbread."
"Ooh, nice. What else did you eat?" Layer asked eagerly, resting their chin in their hands.
Walter wasn't surprised to see Layer's genuine interest, as they'd spent most of their prison sentence in the kitchen, and dutifully detailed the food to a willing audience for once.
A few floors up, Fisher was finalising the last of his reports. The bullpen was nearly empty around him, everyone else long gone for the day and the night shift was on a different floor of the precinct. Mia had only left for her date when Fisher shooed her away, even though she promised to come in early to finish her reports.
Fisher glanced at his computer screen as it flashed unexpectedly. The screen should have stayed dark with the computer in sleep mode, and he was certain he hadn't nudged the mouse since it was on the other side of the desk.
[Good evening, Alan Fisher.]
If he was a few years older, he might have had a heart attack.
"What the... Is the IT department trying to get access to my computer again?" he muttered, reaching for his phone.
[Don't touch the phone, Fisher.]
The words were written on the screen smoothly and he paused, his hand hovering above his phone before slowly and carefully withdrawing.
"You can hear me?" Fisher asked, wondering if they'd hear the tremble in his voice.
The screen didn't answer straight away, and waiting was far worse than an immediate response.
[I have access to your computer microphone, so yes, I can hear you. I can see you, too.]
Waving his hand in front of the camera, the tiny thing that usually showed a light when it was activated, Fisher wondered what he could do. Then, more importantly...
"What do you want from me?"
[Work-life balance would be nice. A decent sleep, perhaps? When was the last time you slept longer than five hours?]
Feeling judged by disembodied text on his computer screen, Fisher shifted uncomfortably before he admitted, "1974."
Give or take a hundred years, he added mentally.
"Older people don't sleep as much, if you haven't heard. And that can't really be what you want from me," Fisher added, frowning.
[Older people not needing sleep is a myth and you should read the latest research on the topic. If nothing else, it might bore you to sleep. Oh, but you're right, we do want something else from you.]
Fisher tensed briefly, holding his breath, and waiting for the demand. If this person could hack into the Maxville Police Department's computer so easily, then he didn't know what else they might be able to do to him or his computer.
[We want you to go to this address. Pen and paper handy?]
Fisher grabbed his pen and notebook, writing the address down as it scrawled across his screen. "When? What time?" he asked, trying to determine if he recognised the address without success.
He glanced at his screen, but there was no answer. Fisher swallowed hard, thought about his options - go now or think about it for too long, don't sleep even longer, and then go anyway? - and decided to go now. Grabbing his duster jacket off the back of his chair, Fisher left his desk and reports, and hurried down to his car.
...
Morana trembled, and though she tried not to make it obvious to the growing crowd surrounding her, her pastel purple dress gave away her movement just as much as her hands. "You said you're going to hurt me? How? Why? I'll... I'll bring her back, I promise!"
"Well, that was easy," Warren muttered to Layla, who grinned and quickly schooled her expression.
"Now, now, Morana. Breathe, calm down. Can everyone give her some space? We aren't going to kill you," Layla said with a brief smile.
"But... you said - "
"Hurting isn't killing, is it? And it won't last for long," Layla said sweetly, her eyes glowing green as she reached out to grab Morana's shoulder, Warren reaching for the other shoulder as his eyes burned blue.
Morana's scream was even louder than Lorcan's, or maybe it was just because she was closer, Barney mused, glancing over to where his son was still unconscious and his arm no longer covered in jewelled flesh.
"What's going on in here? I heard someone screaming," Ida said, her eyes wide as she saw the scene before her: Layla and Warren burying vines and flames into someone's shoulder. As Ida moved closer, she realised she recognised the person: Morana, the reanimator from the morgue. "What... What are they doing to her?" she asked, looking around at the gathered group.
"Usually, that means they're branding her. But they didn't ask like they usually do, and they didn't do a single shoulder. Even the prisoners were on one shoulder," Craig said with a frown.
"They're branding her?"
"Well, yeah; where'd you think we got all of these awesome tattoos from?" Craig asked, nodding over to his own shoulder with a grin.
Ida went to answer, then she narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were planning the prison rescue for Monday? Zero told me about it."
"Oh, I am. I'm currently arguing the validity of releasing murder hornets into the police precinct with Zach and Justina. I'm also down here 'cause Donny needed to sleep and couldn't deal with this, and Grant had a headache so I showed him the apartment we chose. Poor guy collapsed on the bed and fell straight to sleep. Oh, they're done," he said as Morana's scream cut off abruptly.
"Wait, why were you down here because of Donny needing sleep?"
"We're erasing her memory after she's done what's needed," Layla answered, and it was then that Ida realised the light from Warren's fire had disappeared. "In fact, while you're here, Dr. Spattle, would you mind checking Morana over to ensure they aren't too noticeable?" she asked, indicating to Morana who had collapsed into Warren's arms.
Biting back her questions - they wouldn't help her patient right now - Dr. Spattle nodded, stepped forward, and looked over Morana carefully. Her dress was still intact somehow but beneath the straps, she could see a thin line on each shoulder, like her skin had been reopened and closed again with neat scars.
"Morana will definitely notice them, but they won't be obvious at a distance. Her husband is likely to notice as well," she added.
"Ooh, we almost forgot about him. I call dibs on picking him up at the airport!" Craig called out, grinning.
"If Donny's unable to go - " Warren started to say.
"Donny can't change his features, and he might be recognised later."
"If you'd let me finish talking?" Warren asked, his eyebrow raised. Craig gave a sheepish grin and nodded, miming zipping his lips closed. "If Donny's unable to go, then you can go on your own. However, if Donny can go, then you can be the so-called driver and he can stay in the front seat without being seen. We'll have to see if we can borrow Nigel or Brie."
"For now, if we can get to the point? We're going to run out of time if you keep talking," Layla teased, kissing Warren's cheek.
"Am I still needed? I was in the middle of something," Ida added, realising she'd left a patient with Lex when they'd both heard the screaming.
"Oh. No, thank you, Dr. Spattle," Layla said. "We've got it from here."
Craig unzipped his lips with a grin. "We'll scream if we need you."
Refusing to laugh, even though it was kind of funny, Ida left to return to her patient and surgery.
"Aww, not even a smile? Damn, that's cold, Dr. S!" Craig called after her, then spun on his foot to face Morana, who was still being held up in Warren's arms. "Want me to wake her up?"
"Let me put her down first, then yeah. Honey?" Warren called.
"I'm here, you're good to go. She won't try to run again," Honey promised.
Satisfied with her response, Warren set Morana down on the chair gently and stepped back. Craig stepped forward, fading her dream slowly until her eyes fluttered open, Morana's eyes widening in shock.
"What did you do to me?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"You'll see. Now, please come this way," Layla said, a path clearing amongst the group to let her lead the reanimator straight to Maleah's bed.
Morana wanted to run since she had a clear shot to the door again, but after everything that had already happened, she didn't dare even look that way for long. Standing took a moment, she cleared her throat gently, and followed the redhead over to the body. As she followed, she realised that Hourglass was among the crowd, and doubted that her monetary offer (bribe, some part of her mind corrected) still stood. Recognising the person standing next to Hourglass, Morana's jaw dropped. "Judge Salt?"
Hyacinth gave a brief smile. "I was told you required a judge to perform this act. It's an interesting stipulation for a superpower," she added, as though she didn't believe Morana for a moment.
"Is it?" she asked weakly. Then her resolve hardened. "You're with them?"
"I'm here at your request, Morana. I suggest we get this over and done with," Hyacinth said, indicating towards Maleah.
Annoyed that her attempt at delaying and escaping hadn't worked, Morana took the last few steps to the deceased's bed. The whole room was silent, as though everyone was holding their breath and waiting.
"You can't make me do this," she said, her body and dress trembling at her final attempt at defiance.
"Morana, please understand something: this is us asking you. If you want me to make you do this, then I will," Layla said.
The threat in her tone and words made the hairs on Morana's arms stand up straight. She didn't want to find out how she would be made to do this, so Morana swallowed hard, and reached out to touch the body.
"It took you long enough. Honestly, I've been waiting for hours out here," Morana said, the words forced from her mouth and not anything she wanted nor had planned to say. Her eyes widened and she put her free hand to her throat, confused and concerned as to what was going on, but unable to say the words. She tried to let go of the body, to pull free and stop whatever this was, whatever they'd done to her, but her hand felt like it was superglued to the body.
"Mal?" Kiara asked, eyes wide as she stepped forward.
"Hey, Key. I don't have long to talk; she's new at this," Maleah replied, glancing down at Morana's free hand.
"Maleah? What are you doing? You are not in your body?" Barney asked, confused as he held Decima's hand tightly and tried to work out what was wrong.
Maleah shook Morana's head. "No, I'm not. I can't, Pepe. It's... It's not that I don't want to, but I know that I can't. It was my time."
"But... you're too young, baby," Decima said, her voice breaking.
Maleah smiled softly. "No one's too young to die, Mami. I love you, but I have to go. Nana and Tata are waiting for me, and Miguel's prowl is here, too."
"Where's here?" Freya asked, Miguel trembling beside her at the mention of his family.
Maleah shrugged Morana's shoulders. "It doesn't have a name, it just is. I think it's different for everyone, though. Oh, before I go; Naj, where are you?"
"Wh-what? Me?" Najair asked, shrinking in on himself.
"Come here, I can't move closer."
Najair played with his pink braid nervously as he stepped forward. "I-I'm sorry, Mal. I wasn't there; I wasn't brave - "
"Nope, you be quiet. You did exactly what you needed to do. I'm proud of you, Naj, and you are not to blame for me dying. The people that shot me are the ones to blame, understood?" she asked, cupping his cheek.
Najair sniffled and nodded. "Understood, Mal."
Maleah smiled and glanced over to Freya and Miguel. Then she saw Pat in the crowd and her smile fell. "Pat, cariño, you're here."
Pat nodded, his throat thick and eyes full of tears. "Sorry I was late, Mal."
Tears filled Morana's eyes and Maleah reached out for Pat to join her.
Pat was there in two long strides, stopping abruptly. "Can I hug you? I mean... it's not you so is it okay?"
Maleah was silent for a moment, then gave a watery smile and nod. "Morana said yes. Thank you... Oh, I missed you."
Pat wrapped Maleah in a warm and firm hug. "I'm sorry, Mal. I... I could have been there; I could have - "
"No, you couldn't have. Your Mam needed you and we needed an alibi. We agreed to it, and I don't regret it, cariño. I chose my own actions and I don't regret any of them, I swear."
"You're... you're sure? Maleah, I - " his voice cut off, broken and raw, and Pat wiped away his tears.
She smiled as she pulled away from their hug, brushing a tear away, and reaching up on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I know, Pat. Now, make sure Nigel is good to you, okay? He promised."
Pat couldn't stop the laugh of disbelief. "Nigel promised? I... Oh, Mal, he's going to be heartbroken. He's not the only one," he admitted, sniffling again.
Najair wrapped his arms around Pat, and Pat burst into tears against his shoulder.
Morana's head turned like she heard something they didn't, and Maleah gave a small regretful smile as she looked at her family and friends. "I have to go now. I love you all."
"Wait, Maleah! Baby, just one more minute, please!" Decima cried, sobbing as her knees gave way, Barney guiding her down to the carpet as gently as he could when he couldn't hold himself up either.
Morana blinked and her body was her own again. She looked at the crowd of crying people, and then at the body - Maleah - beside her. She was still holding Maleah's forearm and let go gently, wiping her own tears away.
"Thank you, Morana. You did a good thing," Honey murmured.
Morana let out a shuddering breath. "I've never... I've never done that before. I felt everything Maleah felt. I could feel the bullet in my lungs," she added, pressing her hand to her body as if expecting blood and a wound.
"Let's go get some rest. We have a few things to do before you can be taken home, but this helped. Oh, and I'll transfer the money later."
"But I didn't bring her back."
"For a brief moment, you did. Come along, there's food, water, and a bed. You can shower if you want, too," Honey added, gently guiding Morana out of the room.
Warren and Layla followed, both quiet and sombre, and their eyes wet with tears. Dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, Hyacinth guided Craig out as well. Behind them, the doors closed on the group of crying and sobbing people. They had hardly made it halfway down the corridor when a scream had them all turning around, Layla and Warren running back for the room with Craig a step behind them.
...
End of the two-hundred and third chapter.
Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!