Opening Notes: One of the banes of the fan fic reader is the unfinished story. Once I reawakened my obsession with the world of Lancer, I turned to the pages of fan fiction to keep those stories alive.
When I read "Missing" by skywalk on , I closed my eyes and dropped my head seeing that it was left an orphan due to whatever circumstances prevented the author, Wendy H, from concluding her tale. Something nudged inside of me, and a story unfolded before my eyes.
Now, I am a bit of a magpie in that this isn't the first time that I have wandered into another writer's AU and wanted to share the adventures in the landscape that they created. Typically, I have been able to get permission from the original writer for my dabbling, unfortunately, I could find no method to locate Wendy. I truly hope that she is not offended as it is only out of respect of her original work that I wanted to offer a conclusion.
My chapters are inspired by Wendy's original work and believe my contribution will be better understood if "Missing" is read first and is included here as the first chapter, Prelude.
Warnings: My story wanders into an other-worldly experience as Scott and Johnny struggle to find their way home. Please skip this one if such an exploration might be offensive to you. Some blue language, descriptions of gore, and sexual inuendo.
Missing – Original Story
By shywalk
Missing
Author: Wendy H
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, etc., etc.
Ratings: Angst
Author's Notes:
Thanks to V, who is constantly putting more ideas in my head than I can handle.
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Part One
"So, Boston, did they send you to law school just so you can do clever things like this?"
Even though, Scott was unable to see his brother due to the embarrassing position he now found himself in, he could still make out the barely controlled sniggering as he struggled not to laugh out loud.
"I mean, me being a simple country boy, I gotta ask how'd you do it?"
"Simple is right!" Scott called back in frustration. "Simple in the head. Now, get me the Hell out of here!"
Scott's loud and impatient voice couldn't have pleased his brother more if he tried to. Johnny was having too much fun to let Scott off too easily.
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"I can't believe you did that," Johnny rebuked his brother as Lancer boys barreled into the house earlier that day.
"Why? She looked so lonely," Scott grinned as he managed to evade his brother's elbow connecting with his ribs. "And after all, you're such a 'sweet boy for a gunfighter'." The blonde Lancer doubled over laughing as he imitated an old and craggy voice.
"What are you two on about?" Murdoch Lancer asked as he watched his son's good-natured teasing with some pleasure.
Feigning a quick movement toward his brother, that had Scott stepping back in readiness to flee, Johnny shook his head as he made himself comfortable on the corner of Murdoch's desk to explain. "My dear brother, decided to offer my services to old Mrs. Pruitt for Sundays town dance."
"Jessica?" Murdoch asked, finding the situation slightly amusing himself. "And what services would that be?" The elder Lancer asked with raised eyebrows.
"As her dance partner of course," Johnny grumbled as he moved his hat around in his hands. "No offense Murdoch, but she's not really my type. She's more your…."
"My age?" Murdoch finished his youngest son's sentence for him as he heard Scott spluttering uncontrollably behind him. "Well, if you must know, Johnny, Jessica has a good fifteen years or more on me." The rancher defended.
"Scott only did this because Jenny Wainwright made it clear who she's going to dance with and it's not going to be him," Johnny glared as he threw his hat at his now hopelessly amused brother.
"But you're such a 'sweet boy'," Scott roared as he caught Johnny's hat and tossed it back at its owner.
"Boys!" Murdoch light-heartedly admonished before getting down to serious ranch matters. "Fun can wait. I've got another job for you. I need you to go and check around the South pastureland for me. Jelly tells me one of the hands found the remains of another dead calf this morning. That makes four in two weeks." Murdoch frowned.
"That cat again?" Johnny asked, his joke with his brother now forgotten.
"Thought it had left for parts unknown," Scott said as he joined his father and brother.
"We all did. You think you two can go and take a look, see if you track it down for me?" Murdoch asked.
"Sure, I'll go, don't know about Johnny though," Scott said with a smile as he began backing toward the front door, "I'm not sure if he can drag himself away from Mrs. Pruitt." He chuckled as he bolted for the door.
"And he's the one that went to Harvard," Johnny mocked as he shook his head and headed to the door after his brother. All the while his mind trying to figure an equal revenge.
Having tracked the lion most of the day, they had lost the cat's tracks as they led up to a rocky outcrop. Both Lancers agreed to give it one more hour before heading back to the ranch. Tethering their horses, they set off on foot to track the animal down.
"What's the bet, it's going to rain and wash these tracks away before we find out where it's hiding?" Scott said as he pondered the darkening sky before continuing to track the cat as his brother had taught him.
"And what's the bet I end up dancing the night away with Jenny, even taking your meddling in to account?" Johnny responded, re-igniting the earlier topic of dispute as he proudly watched from some distance behind, as Scott tracked the Mountain lion.
"Brother," Scott grinned as he turned to look back at Johnny, "I'll take that bet and when-" His last words were swallowed just as he was, as the ground suddenly gave way beneath his feet.
Running desperately to where he had seen Scott disappear, Johnny found an entrance to an old mine shaft. It had to have been the combined pressure of rotten boards and Scott's weight that had caused the collapse.
"Scott?" Johnny tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but failed miserably as he imagined broken bones, or worse.
"Yeah, I hear you," The voice sounded more irritated than hurt. "Get me out of here, will you?" Scott's voice echoed up the tunnel.
"You okay, Boston?" Johnny needed to be sure that Scott was all right.
Once, he was assured his brother had been uninjured by the fall, Johnny had made himself comfortable, so he could peer safely over the side and allow the fun to begin. Vengeance was going to be sweet.
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"Now, get me the Hell out of here!"
"Now, Boston, you don't need to be getting all riled up down there. This is going to take some careful figuring to get you out. I'm gonna need to ponder on it a spell. A 'plan', that's what I need. Yep, a plan and a nap." Johnny just managed to stifle an all-out belly laugh, as he heard his brother's groan echo up the shaft.
"Brother, all you need is a rope. No pondering, no figuring and unless you want me to shoot you dead when I do eventually get out of this Hellhole, no blasted nap. Just a God damned rope!" Scott shook his head in utter disgust. Here he was, at the bottom of mine shaft, bruised and sore in more places than he could count and covered from head to foot in mud. And unlike his brother, Scott was finding nothing humorous about his current predicament. Any patience had long burnt away to a short fuse.
"A rope? Hell, Boston, no wonder you went to Harvard," Johnny snickered. "I would NEVER have thought of that!"
"Just get the blasted rope, Johnny Lancer!"
Hearing his brother's patience finally give out, Johnny was about slide back from the edge, when he stopped and peered over the rim again. "You did say rope, didn't ya?"
"Johnny, I swear, if you don't go, I'm going to-"
"I'm going. I'm going," Putting a halt to his brother's unvoiced threat, Johnny lost the last of his control and roared with all the laughter he had been holding back, as he pushed himself away from the hole.
Still smiling, the younger Lancer stooped down to pick up his hat, having lost it in the rush of blind panic in seeing to his brother's welfare. A shiver ran down Johnny's spine and his smile faded as the memory of how close he had come to losing Scott suddenly struck him. Dusting the dirt from the brim, Johnny placed it on his head as he quickened his pace and headed down to where the horses were tethered to retrieve the much-requested rope for his Scott.
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Scott listened until the last of his brother's laughter faded into silence while grinding his teeth in impotent frustration. Now that Johnny had gone to fetch the rope, he was feeling very much alone in his small earth jail.
After a dismal attempt at cleaning the some of the filth from his face, Scott took a closer look at his prison. His boots were ankle deep in mud and made a sucking sound as he attempted to move. He wasn't about to complain. If it hadn't been for this wet clay surface which had cushioned his fall, he might have suffered a broken bone or two, instead of just scrapes and bruises.
While waiting for Johnny to return, Scott made his way through the sludge, examining the confines of his space. He had only followed the shaft a short distance when he came face to face with a wall of rocks and scattered beams.
Glancing back the way he'd come, Scott now knew there was only one way out of that place, and it meant waiting on his comedic brother and suffering through his good-natured joking. Scrunching his face into a frown, he considered his options again, perhaps it would be preferable to try to dig himself out.
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Checking the rope as he wound his way through the rocks and bushes back to the mine shaft, Johnny's humor had faded as he realized there was a renewed sense of urgency in his brother's situation. Thunderheads had started rolling in while they had been searching for the mountain lion and then with Scott's accident. The skies had darkened overhead enough to make Johnny accelerate his pace, knowing that rain would make it that much harder to get Scott out.
Seeing the break in the ground ahead, Johnny relaxed a bit, knowing that he'd have Scott out in no time, though he might have to run for his horse, if Scott's mood stayed as dark as it sounded from down below. Focused on the job ahead of him, Johnny didn't hear the cat until it was too late.
With his hands still gripping his brother's lifeline, Johnny spun around at the sound of growling threat and was knocked down by the mountain lion's sudden and ferocious attack.
With the wind knocked out of him, Johnny used the only thing he had and pushed the coiled rope between the snarling cat's mouth as her teeth made a lunge at his throat. Powerful claws tore a burning trail through his side as he watched his and Scott's death mirrored in her eyes. Using all the strength he had left, Johnny shifted to his left, throwing the cat off balance as he made a last ditch effort for his gun.
With his fingers just managing to reach the butt of his weapon, Johnny felt the cat regain her purchase and bite down on his unprotected shoulder. Screaming in pain, Johnny ignored the teeth grinding into his flesh and bone of his gun arm and managed to free his gun. Feeling lightheaded, Johnny closed his eyes as he twisted his wrist and squeezed the trigger.
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Even deep in the earth, Scott heard his brother's painful cry. Moving as fast as the mud would allow, he made it back to the mine's entrance just as the sound of gunfire shattered the silence.
With his heart racing, Scott looked up helplessly at the jagged opening and called up desperately. "Johnny? This isn't funny, you know." But Scott knew that even Johnny wouldn't take a joke this far. Something was terribly wrong above ground.
Unconsciously, stepping to the tunnel wall, Scott's fingers clawed for a hold in the soft clay, as his calls became more frantic. "JOHNNY? ANSWER ME!"
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"JOHNNY! ANSWER ME!"
"Boston?" Johnny groaned, as he fought his way back from the encroaching darkness to answer the familiar and fearful voice.
Trying to remember what had happened, Johnny cried out when he tried to move his shoulder. Turning his head to see what was causing his pain, he was confronted with the dead eyes of a mountain lion, her teeth still buried in his flesh. Pushing down the bile threatening to leave his stomach, Johnny brought his left arm over to push the dead animal from his shoulder when he was rewarded with a fiery pain in his left side. Ignoring it, he grabbed hold of the lion's top jaw and painfully levered her teeth from his shoulder.
Breathless, Johnny used his feet to push the rest of the cat off him and laid still as he caught his breath.
"JOHNNY! WHAT'S HAPPENING?"
"Scott?" Remembering why he was here, Johnny rolled over, biting his lip as pain stabbed at his wounds in retaliation. Crawling on his knees, his eyes clenched tight against the pain, Johnny blindly fumbled for the rope and found it. Then he weakly pulled it free from under the lion's body while holding his bad arm protectively against his stomach. Somehow, Johnny made it to his feet, mouthing his brother's name as he accomplished two stumbling steps before passing out.
Johnny's unconscious body fell to the ground, spiraling out of control down the hillside, until an unyielding rock put an end to the slide with a sickening thud.
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Part Two
When Scott first heard that agonized scream, it turned his blood to ice. He wanted to believe with everything that was in him, that it was all some twisted joke on his brother's part. Merely, Johnny's way of getting back at him over the 'Mrs. Pruitt incident'. However, even by Scott's guessed calculations, it had been over twenty minutes since he last heard any sound from above. Twenty minutes too long.
Scott had shouted so frantically, his voice had gone hoarse. His desperate pleas went unanswered as he called for Johnny to give him some sign, something; anything that would tell Scott that the cries of torment he'd heard weren't from his brother. Except Scott's inner voice knew that there could be no other source.
Trapped and helpless inside the muddy prison of the mineshaft, Scott punched at the walls of the in frustration. Fists melded into soft, wet earth and he was once more reminded how useless another attempt to try to climb out would be. He stared at his battled-scarred confines, the results of his earlier endeavors to gain a footing, and found they were proof enough that the only way he was getting out was with help from above.
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Johnny's first conscious perception was of intense pain, which was quickly followed by an all-consuming urge to empty his stomach. Ceding to the more urgent need, Johnny painfully rolled on to his left side, just as the heaves began to torture his already abused body. Agony pulsed through his side with each violent wretch, tearing a moan from his bile-coated throat.
Gasping for breath, but certain there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up, Johnny ignored the painful twists in his gut and shoulder and used his left arm to push himself back onto his knees. The world tilted and began to fade as the pounding in Johnny's head blocked out the sounds around him. He would've fallen had it not been for the hard surface beside him. Unfocused eyes and a mind still coming to terms with the tremendous pain attacking it, continued to struggle to make sense of their surroundings.
It was only as Johnny began to realize that he was shivering uncontrollably, did he comprehend that it was raining. Taking support from what he now recognized as a rock, Johnny tilted his head back, greedily opening his mouth in an attempt to quench his dry lips.
Unable to fully satisfy his thirst, Johnny's uncoordinated hand movements brushed the rain from his face as he painfully levered his full weight on to faltering legs. With his face twisted in pain, an indistinct memory, an urgent need, propelled Johnny to keep moving no matter what the cost. With deeply furrowed brows, Johnny shivered as his shuffling gait came to a breathless halt.
'Where was he going?'
He had no answer to his question, only an intangible necessity that told him that he had to get moving.
Blinking not only against the rain, but also his blurred vision, Johnny tried to make sense of where he was, hoping it would hold a clue to his all-consuming need to do keep going. Swaying on his feet, he started to bring his right hand up to clear the rain from his face. His eyes clamped shut, as his legs buckled under the pain, and he fell to his knees in agony. Struggling to catch his breath, Johnny wrapped his arms around himself as he weakly rocked back and forth, trying to will the pain away.
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At first grateful for the soft, muddy surface that had broken his fall, Scott now grew apprehensive as rain seeped through the mine's opening. The level of mud and water began to rise around his ankles, and he saw with ominous clarity the reason for the lifesaving dampness inside his prison. The mine was flooding. With renewed desperation, Scott stared up into the opening and prayed for his brother's help. "Come on brother, I need you!"
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Johnny flinched, startled as thunder cracked in the air. Ceasing his rocking, he kept his arms wrapped around himself as he arched his face toward the heavens. Blinking against the rain, Johnny shivered, as another roar seemed to shake the very skies. The sudden scream of frightened animals distracted the wounded man and with chattering teeth, Johnny turned to see a horse rearing wildly as it fought its tethers.
"Barr-anca?" His voice barely above a whisper was shouted down by the storm's rapidly growing rhythm.
Releasing the death grip he had on his body, Johnny's reached out a trembling hand to the ground for support and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Darkness again threatened to overpower him, but he fought it off, knowing that Barranca could be his only hope of survival. Staggering toward the distressed horse, he painfully managed to get a bloodied grip on his saddle as a shaking hand reached out to untie the reins.
"Who-a," he attempted to calm the startled animal. With his hand gripping the saddle for dear life, Johnny was taking a moment to catch his breath before making an attempt to mount the horse, when it suddenly registered in Johnny's muddled mind that there was the sound of a second horse nearby.
"Charl—"
If Johnny thought he couldn't be in anymore pain, then he was wrong. A sickening wave of fear welled in his gut, as his eyes darted around maniacally in their desperate search for his brother. He now had a name for the unknown apprehension that had driven him forward.
"Scott!" His pain cut through the chilling wind.
A thunderclap echoed through the hills. Barranca snorted, his eyes rolling back into his head as he reared, knocking his weakened owner to the ground. As a second roar of nature exploded, the horse took the opportunity for escape and bolted.
Struck, not only by the hooves of his startled horse, but also by the sudden onslaught of slowly converging memories, Johnny lay in a tangled heap on the muddy ground, gasping for air as he recalled his brother's desperate situation.
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Part Three
Trying to ignore the pain that left him weak and gasping for air, Johnny once again labored to push himself to his knees, frantically trying to find purchase on the now wet and slippery earth as the rain continued to fall.
"Get up!" He demanded of his resisting body through clenched teeth, and for once his body, though painfully showing its disdain for the order it had been given; did what had been asked of it.
Searching through the curtain of rain, at the area around him, Johnny dug desperately through his still confused memory in an attempt to pinpoint where exactly he'd left his brother and in what condition that had been. Some distance in front of him, his eyes came to rest on a rope lying discarded in the muddy ground. In an instant, the cord became the catalyst clarifying the events that had led to this moment.
Sounds and images of the teasing banter he and Scott had been participating in, flashed through his mind, before abruptly ending with his brother's disappearing into the ground.
"Scott!"
Gritting his teeth, Johnny unsuccessfully tried to rid himself of the tremors that wracked his injured and rain-drenched body as he stumbled toward the rope. Stooping to pick it up, Johnny's wounds cruelly rebelled against his actions, and he lurched forward close to falling, a wave of dizziness again threatening to impede his progress.
Refusing to concede to his body's persistent demands to give in, Johnny managed to once more drive back the encroaching darkness. Barely able to feel the touch of the cord beneath his chilled fingers, Johnny grasped it firmly as he resolutely made his way back up the hill.
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How long had it been since he had heard the gut-wrenching scream and gunshot that had directly followed? Scott's only testament to the length of time that passed was the muddy water that had now risen to pool around his waist. While his own predicament seemed perilous enough, he couldn't help being more concerned with the unknown situation above ground.
Having had time to do nothing but think about the sound of gunshot, Scott was reminded of the five hundred-dollar-bounty that had been put on his brother's head by the bogus Sheriff Bede Cale over five months ago.
With the death of Cale at Los Almos, it had been easy for the family to think the danger was over for Johnny. However, they all knew there were still wanted posters out there and there were still people who believed that there was money and even more importantly, a name to be made for being responsible for the death of Johnny Madrid.
As Scott's gaze once again drifted skyward, his eyelids blinking defensively at the mud-tinted rain that seeped through the mine's opening, he couldn't help wondering if somehow, someone had finally collected.
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Stumbling over slippery and uneven ground, Johnny came across the carcass of the dead mountain lion and another piece of his jumbled memory fell into place. With increasing urgency, Johnny ignored everything around him as drove himself onward toward his goal.
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Murdoch closed the book that rested on his lap and tossed it on the settee beside him; not that he had been paying much attention to it anyway. Reaching for his watch, he opened the silver case to check the time, frowning, he closed it and placed the timepiece one more into his pocket. He had repeatedly executed the same action over the last hour.
There was no rhyme or reason for his concern; after all, it wasn't as if his sons were children, or that he didn't trust them to do their jobs. Far from it in fact, but with the onset of the storm, he knew the mountain cat's tracks would be swept away with the rain, so he was more than a little surprised when in time, they still hadn't returned.
Getting to his feet, he felt a pull from his long-healed bullet wound as if it was reminding him of his weariness and age. "Maybe Johnny was right," he smiled to himself as he was reminded of the earlier conversation with his sons. "Maybe I am more Jessica's age than I thought."
Like most ranches of its kind, Lancer was battle-worn and hard won, so life on the ranch had also been an everyday battle for Murdoch. A fight to keep what he had, a challenge to survive the worst that Mother Nature or man's lack of humanity to man, could throw at him. Still, that was then. There was no longer a lone Murdoch Lancer that fought to survive this land, it was Murdoch Lancer with his sons by his side who now contested all that would threaten them.
Murdoch was suddenly struck as if for the first time, with the overpowering feeling of family that now filled the Lancer ranch after so many years of emptiness. As they were now, it would seem as if it had always been that way, when in fact it had been only a short year ago that his sons had returned to him. They had returned not out of love or respect for their father, nor were they concerned for the ranch itself. Each man had his own reasons; had to face his own demons to come home again. It had been a mixture of curiosity, retribution, and a pact; a pact that with their help would not only save the ranch, but reward them with an equal share in that ranch, that had compelled to come back. Yet, it didn't matter what had brought them home; all that mattered to Murdoch Lancer was that they 'were' home.
Life was not easy in those first few months; two brothers forged so different by the choices life made for them, yet unknown to them both, bonded by blood. The eldest Scott, blonde, tall, and slender, came with his mother's well-bred genteel traits. Educated and raised by his maternal Grandfathers' hand, he went to the finest schools, and so as he was taught, there was nothing more he needed. Fate, or the hand of God, would soon show him what he was missing.
The youngest Johnny, dark, brooding, with the handsome features that had made his mother so beautiful, also came outfitted with her fiery temper. With no easy life to guide him, he had fought hard, did what he had to do to survive, and along the way made a name for himself as the menacing gunfighter, Johnny Madrid.
Two brothers, so different in their appearance, in their characters, yet, so alike in their courage and tenacity to fight for what is right. To fight for the ranch, for their 'adopted' sister Teresa, for Jelly...
'Even for me' A fleeting disconcerted gaze passed over Murdoch's face before being quickly replaced with a grateful smile as he continued to think of his sons. 'My sons' He thought proudly. 'Two brothers willing to face Hell for each other, no father could be prouder.'
'No father could be more worried. Where the Hell were they?'
"They're not back yet?"
Brought out of his musings by Teresa's voice, Murdoch turned to face the pretty, auburn-haired girl who had become like a daughter to him over the years.
"Sorry?"
"Scott and Johnny, they're not back yet," she elaborated.
"No, not yet," he said as he attempted to cover his concern with a smile.
"You're worried about them." Teresa could see the truth of her statement in Murdoch's face.
"A little water won't hurt them. Anyway, I'm sure they're hold up somewhere out there, just waiting for the storm out."
"Who you trying to convince?" Teresa asked, as she put aside her own concerns for the boys, and stepped into Murdoch's arms for a shared, reassuring hug.
"Hey, who's supposed to be comforting who here?" Murdoch smiled, his mood lifting slightly as he kissed the top of the young woman's head.
At the distance sound of a horse coming in, Teresa felt Murdoch relax under her embrace. 'Thank the lord'
"See! And you were worried." Relief was obvious on the father's face.
"Who was worried?" Teresa teased as she joined Murdoch in walking toward the front door.
Expecting one of the boys to open the front door, Murdoch was a little taken aback when a rain-soaked Jelly came bursting in. "Boss, ya better come quick."
In two strides, Murdoch's long legs had carried him to the open doorway. There he could clearly see Johnny's horse Barranca tethered to the front rail. The horse was clearly distressed and even more obvious—without its rider.
"Where's Johnny?" Murdoch knew just by looking at his son's horse that it was alone, but he had to ask. He had to be wrong.
"Don't know boss, but..."
"What is it, Jelly?" Murdoch asked the older man.
"I was checking Johnny's horse, and..."
"Damn it, Jelly, spit it out." Murdoch snapped.
Jelly took a deep breath as he patted Barranca's snout, an action not only to calm the agitated horse, but also himself. "I found blood under the saddle."
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Part Four
The rocky outcropping, uneven at the best of times, was even more so with the aid of the downpour the continued unabated. Mud and rock blended into one, as the injured man made his way onward; any mistimed slip of the foot eliciting a tormented moan from between his clenched teeth.
With his body having passed exhaustion some time ago, Johnny Lancer now worked on his remaining willpower alone as he searched for his brother Scott. Yet, that same willpower was now only a fading glimmer under the weight of his injuries and chills that seemed to weaken him to his bones. As another agony-filled shudder coursed through him, Johnny's legs could no longer support him and he collapsed.
Landing on his knees, the rope fell from his good hand as he reached for his side in an attempt to ride out another wave of pain. "Damn it!" Johnny cried out in frustration, as it seemed that the elements and his own body's weakness conspired to defeat his purpose.
Pulling his hand from his side, Johnny absent-mindedly watched the rain dilute the red stain from his fingers, before turning his head toward the sky to demand one last favor. "Let me find him - save him, then you can have me!"
With his head turned upward toward his one hope of escape, Scott tried to focus on what had happened to his brother, but as each part of his body became numbed by the cold rising water that pooled around him, his fears for his own survival intensified.
"-you - -me!"
The words were barely audible over the sound of the water coming from above and below ground, but Scott knew the voice. It was his brother; it was Johnny, and he was alive.
"Thank God," he sighed gratefully, as he wiped the rain from his face with the back of his trembling hands.
Barely able to command his frigid legs into action, Scott sluggishly dragged himself until he was directly under the opening. "Johnny?"
When he received no answer, he called out more desperately. "Johnny, can you hear me?"
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"Johnny?"
"Oh, funny," Johnny growled as he figured the voice he had heard to be a figment of his imagination, and another cruel trick that was being played on him.
"Johnny, can you hear me?"
Following the sound of the illusion, Johnny turned his head, expelling an incredulous gasp as he sighted the opening of the mineshaft just a few mere steps away.
"Scott?" Johnny's voice was barely above a whisper, as he desperately crawled toward the opening; finding even that simple action left him winded and barely able to catch his breath. Yet, knowing his brother the way he did, he knew that Scott wouldn't let Johnny risk himself for him, so he took a moment to steady his breathing, before returning his brother cries.
"Hey, B-boston," Johnny peered down the hole, seeing for the first time the perilous position his brother was in.
"Damn it, brother, you scared me," Scott smiled thankfully up at his partially rain-concealed sibling.
"N-now, ya know h-how f-felt when - ya fell down the dam-n thing in the f-first p-place," Johnny tried to joke through chattering teeth.
Not even the rain could hide the hitch in Johnny's voice, and Scott didn't have to have a clear view of his brother to know something was wrong. "Johnny, what is it? What happened up there? I heard the shot, then I heard you call out. What happened?"
Not about to go into the details while his brother's situation became even more dangerous than it already was, Johnny steadied his breathing again. "I h-hate to i-interrupt your b-bath, Boston, but h-how about we g-get that h-harvard ass of y-yours up here, b-before we have this d-discussion, I'm f-freezing up here."
"Damn it, Johnny!" Scott cursed as he watched the form of his brother's head disappear from the hole's edge. "Johnny!"
"He's freezing!" Scott lightheartedly chastised, as he splashed at the water around him.
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Part Five
Scott wasn't quite sure if his brother was trying to kill him with frustration or pneumonia, but as the time dragged on for what seemed an eternity, frustration won the emotional and physical coin toss. "D…damn it, J…Johnny, its j…just a d…damn r…rope."
Above ground, that 'damn rope' was the least of his brother's problems as the rain and his injuries continued to sap at the last remnants of Johnny's energy. Hampered by the limited movement of his injured shoulder, his icy cold fingers trembled and fumbled as they tried to secure the rope around a large rock. The effort left Johnny lightheaded and breathless, and he stumbled, his body shaking as he fell to his knees.
Fighting against the veil of unconsciousness that enticed him with its lure of a painless sleep, Johnny winced, pressing his hand to the raw and bleeding wound that had been left in his side by the cat's claws. He couldn't let anything stop him, not yet, not until his brother was free from his watery prison.
With a faltering breath, Johnny searched out the loose end of the rope and slowly clambered across the muddy and rocky terrain until he arrived at the edge of the mine shaft.
"R…Ready, B…Boston?" Johnny asked, his voice betraying his weakness, as the end rope disappeared into the darkness below.
While the rope was a welcome sight to Scott, the sound of his brother was even more so. Apart from saving himself from a watery grave, the semi-submerged blonde needed to be above ground so he could see for himself the reality of his brother's condition.
"M…more than r…ready, b…brother," Scott replied in turn with the same tired and cold-worn stuttering voice. Fingers dirt-caked and water-numbed reached out in vain for purchase on the swaying rope, but failed. Wiping the slippery coating of mud off on the shoulders of his wet shirt, Scott winced as he flexed and rubbed at his frigid digits in an effort to warm them before trying again.
"D…damn it!" he cursed as once again his fingers slipped down the rope with frustrating ease.
It didn't take long for Scott to reach the conclusion that even with the help of the rope, there was no way he was getting out of the hole without even more aid from his brother.
"J…johnny!" Scott called out, a little harsher than he intended as his threadbare patience finally snapped.
Flinching as he again painfully clawed himself closer to the edge of the mine's opening Johnny peered over the edge. "W…wha…t's w... wrong?" he asked as wiped the rain from his eyes with the back of his hand.
Reigning in his anger, Scott calmed himself, unwillingly to take his frustration out on his brother, "J…johnny, I'm s…sorry I-can't d…do it-the r…rope-too w…wet—t-too c…cold. C…can't h-hold it."
Johnny's head dropped at his brother's words. For a brief moment, the enormity of his brother's problem became hopeless to the injured man. "No, d…damn it," he quickly chastised himself, "n…not g…going t…to happen."
Forcing himself to his knees, he called back down to Scott. "T…tie y…yourself t…to the r…rope."
"Johnny? W…what are-"
"J…just d…do it, d-damn it," Johnny ordered through clenched teeth.
Struggling to his feet, Johnny slowly made his way back the way he had come. After fighting with the same knot that he had painstakingly tied only minutes before, Johnny sagged against the rock with his energy spent.
"N…not y…et," he whispered, as he pushed himself away from the rock's support. Not willingly to waste any of his dwindling energy supplies on self-pity, Johnny took a depth breath before calling to his brother, "Y…you r…ready?"
Johnny nodded, as he heard a faint, but affirmative response from the mine shaft. With the rope looped around the rock, Johnny carefully lowered himself to the ground, now using the same rock to brace his legs. Trembling, cold fingers gripped the rope, his knuckles turning white as they prepared to take on Scott's weight. His legs shifted until his feet found a solid base to push against. Johnny prayed again for enough strength to save his brother.
The first tug on the rope was barely noticeable, but it was enough to raise Scott's hopes that his watery ordeal would soon be over.
With his eyes squeezed shut, Johnny swallowed back a cry of pain as the strain of his brother's weight pulled at his wounds.
Clinging desperately to the rope with one hand, Scott tried his best to help Johnny by attempting to scramble a grip into the wall as he was pulled inch by inch up toward the opening.
Johnny wasn't sure if was rain or blood that warmed his side, but he didn't stop to see. He couldn't divert the time and energy to check his own injuries. All that mattered was the constant pressure he felt at the end of his arms. The pain served its purpose, keeping the darkness at bay, while bringing Scott closer to safety.
Clawing at the rain-moistened walls, Scott looked up and felt a wave of relief as the mine's opening seemed closer than ever before.
"T…that's it, J…Johnny—j…just a l…little f…further."
Johnny growled with the depth of his pain as his trembling legs threatened to give way. "Noooo."
He locked his knees again and pulled on the rope with everything he had.
"T…That's it," Scott smiled in triumph as his fingers gripped the edge of the mine. 'You did it, Johnny.'
The effort Johnny gave had been his all. He felt the rope slipping through his fingers, and his last thought before the darkness claimed him was that his best hadn't been enough, and Scott would die because of his failure.
.
PART 6
As Scott managed a firmer hold on the mine's entrance, he couldn't help welcoming the sight of the sky above him, even if it was seemingly as wet as the moist prison he was now about to leave.
The jerk of the rope under his arms reminded him that he was not yet free, so Scott refocused on the earth beneath his fingers, and not the watery pool beneath him.
With nearly three quarters of his body now out of the mine, Scott was taken by surprise when the abrupt slackening of the rope unbalanced him. Without that stabilizing anchor, he was suddenly scrambling to regain a more solid purchase.
As luck would have it his left foot connected with a hard surface somewhere below and he was able to gather just enough equilibrium to heave himself the rest of the way out.
Left exhausted from his effort, Scott didn't even make it to his feet, before rolling on to his back to breathlessly savor his freedom.
It was some minutes before his frozen brain managed to comprehend the silence that had met his return to the ground above. Twisting his head from side to side, he craned his neck to see why he hadn't seen sight of his brother. "Johnny?"
When his croaky call was met with silence, any elation Scott had felt at his rescue quickly evaporated with the cold blanket of fear that now covered him.
Forgetting about the rain, the chill had settled to his bones and the exhaustion wearied every fiber of his body, Scott was on his knees in an instant. His tired eyes scoured the sparse rock formations, before finally making sense of the rope and followed its trail to its end. An arm protruding from behind a rock, was the only visible sign of his brother, a still and seemingly lifeless arm.
"Johnny?"
With his heart in his throat, Scott half scrambled, half ran, closing the distance between them in seconds, only to come to an abrupt halt when he was faced with the full extent of his brother's situation.
"Johnny?" Scott dropped to his brother's side, where the full extent of Johnny's injuries were open to his gaze. Fear and anger vied for dominance, as his brother's torn shirt and bloodied wounds attested to a battle that had been kept from him.
"Damn you, Johnny," Scott seethed as his trembling hands hovered uselessly over the unconscious man. "You had no right," he snapped. "You had no right."
End of "Missing" by Wendy H/Skywalk