Keira followed the others in silence. She didn't really know what to make of the whole situation; the two aliens, the confusing conversation about Lex never existing, some ghost scientist, and something about mating . . . It was all too much for her. Keira decided to say nothing more; she merely followed Stewart and the others, eager to get away from the two crazed aliens. They were close to where Reese was, apparently, and that was a good thing, but Keira was nervous. What if Reese was dead? What if they'd come all this way for nothing . . . "He's not dead," Keira muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. They were close . . .
Stewart saw a shadow of dim light, very, very dim light peeking into the hallway. That was it the Sprinkler room. Stewart pointed to the faint dim light. "There is the room," Stewart said. Stewart began to pick up the pace a little more quicker. Now they were getting closer to the room, closer then ever.Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be dead.
Keira took a deep breath, calming herself. She was nervous, but she had no idea why. Who cared if Reese was dead? He'd done some shady things in his past; kept secrets from his co-workers, caused an all out alien war, antagonized her plenty of times. He deserved to die for what he'd done. But the group did need him. He knew the facility like the back of his hand. If anyone were to get them out of the facility alive, it would be him. And for some reason - some strange reason - Keira didn't want him to die. "Come on, Stewart, hurry up. There's no need to prolong the drama," she snapped, anxious, but trying to sound calm. On the inside, however, she was far from calm.
They finally made it to the Sprinkler System room. Stewart stared at the room. It was a severally small room, and if all of them went in they certainly would be squished and never able to come out. Only two people should go in there. One or two people. Reese would probably be near the tanks. "Me and Keira will walk in, we'll call if we need any help," Stewart said. Stewart grabbed Keira's wrist to bring her out of the group. Everyone had a very impatient look on their face. None of them were worried. Stewart let go of Keira once they were inside. Truth was he just wanted to know if Reese was dead or alive. They didn't have to venture far since the room was so small. They saw near the buttons of function Reese laying on his stomach, his hand still on the wall at least. See this is what you deserve Reese pain, and if you are alive I help finish you off. Stewart couldn't believe what he was thinking, but he smirked about what he was thinking. "We should make sure he is still alive," Stewart said as peacefully as he could.
Keira followed Stewart reluctantly. She wasn't really sure if she wanted to see if Reese was dead or not. But, seeing that Stewart was practically dragging her, Keira was forced to come along. Inside, they found Reese laying still. Oh, god . . . she thought, shaking her head. No . . . She wasn't herself at all. Keira should be glad Reese was dead. He deserved it. But, for some reason, she cared. Keira didn't even notice the smirk on Stewart's face. She knelt down beside Reese, turning him over onto his back. "Help me, Stewart," she muttered. Truthfully, she didn't know what to do. Was he dead? No . . .
Stewart stared at the seen. Dear little Keira nearly freaking out about what she saw. Stewart was no medical person, he just noticed the blood at the corner of Reese's mouth. Was he dead or alive? "I'll check is pulse...you should be careful if he is alive and seriously injured you will make the injuries worse," Stewart said bending down, "Make sure he is breathing." Please be dead, please be dead, please be dead He felt Reese's wrist, looking for his pulse. He found one a very very very weak pulse. "His pulse is low," Stewart said, "I'm glad he is alive." Damn, I'll finish you off later then.
"He's . . . alive?" Keira breathed, glad for that. But would he make it? Certainly not. Apparently, his pulse was very low, and he was in horrible condition; broken bones and such. He'd really taken a beating. "Are you sure . . . he'll be okay?" Keira questioned, even more anxious than before. What was Stewart thinking? She could see something in his eyes . . . Something strange . . . Keira pushed the thoughts of Stewart from her mind, bending over to listen for Reese's breathing. It was slow, sounding almost painful. Keira shuddered. "Reese . . .?" she said softly, hoping for an answer even though he was obviously unconscious.
Edgar followed along almost stroking the SMG in his hands, with it came a sense of raw power. A weapon that could take lives, that enpowered him, put him in charge. He liked it. Just try and tell me what to do now he thought to himself. They approached the small room and he had no objections to going into the dark claustrophobic room especially for Reese's sake. Apparently he was still alive. Barely. He'd leave any of them for dead. Why did he deserve the special treatment? Did Keira like him? He wasn't familiar with the feelings much himself he'd spent long enough in this hole to limit his social interaction with women even more than it had previously been, which was pretty abismal.
"Judging from what I can see...I am no medical professional here, he is bleeding internally meaning something must have ripped through something....on this right side of his he's got a broken arm, broken in two places," Stewart said, "Check his left side, do you feel anything broken anywhere?" Does it hurt? What do you see? Will you die you sick bastard? * * * A collection of memories passed, is this what you see before you die. A man with an overgrown beard, and held a beer gut stared at a small child. Six years of age, tears streaming down his face. "Daddy don't hurt me," the child would say. "Shut up and go get me the remote for the television," The boy would do as he is told. He stood to long at the arm of the chair. The man stared at the kid and smacked him across the face. "Don't just stand there...get me something to eat and a beer....useless boy, f@#king useless," One day the boy curious at seven walked over to his father. His father gave him that glare that meant he didn't want to be bothered. But the boy was to curious to care. "What was mother like?" the boy asked. "Don't bring that wh$re up ever in my house?" the father would say. He would raise his hand and slap the boy hard across the face. Didn't wanted to be treated like trash at eleven. "I hate you, you can't touch me...I'll tell everyone what you have done to me," the boy screamed. "You threatening me," the father said getting up from the couch. The father grabbed a chair and smacked the son with the chair. The son tried to get up the man kicked the boy to the ground. "I make the rules around here," Whatever battle his body had, his body just gave up. This was the passing of death. He could no longer feel his breathe or his essence of life.
Keira did as Stewart suggested, checking Reese's left side for a wound that may have punctured his insides. As she was doing so, however, she knew that Reese had stopped breathing. She knew. Keira frantically listened again for his breathing, but it wasn't there. He was . . . dead . . . "No . . ." Keira muttered. "No . . . No! NO!" she raised her voice, slamming her fist into the ground next to Reese. "We're too late . . ." Her eyes teared up and she turned her face away from Stewart, ashamed. She couldn't cry. That was a sign of vulnerability. "No . . ." she repeated again, this time more quietly. After all they had been through trying to get here - the battle, the aliens, the fear - he was . . . dead. Who cared now if she was weak or not? Who cared if she was vulnerable? Her shield of self-confidence and unemotion had been broken. Leaning over, Keira lay her head on Reese's chest, uncontrollable sobs wracking her body. This definately wasn't like her at all. Keira then raised her head, looking at Reese's cold face, and kissed him, something she would have never dared to think of if he had been alive.
Aaaahahahahahahahahaha, you son of a b!tch you get what you deserve. Finally, finally...you f@#king bastard we don't have to deal with you. Finally. Stewart stared at Keira. "No...Reese....how could we....we lost someone so wonderful," Stewart said. * * * Suddenly darkness plunged his thoughts and suddenly he felt something dragging him back. He coughed a little to get some air and he felt a kiss. He was given a kiss of death. But now the fire was back in his chest and someone was on him too. That was very, very, very painful to him. He coughed again a little, but he couldn't open his eyes. He was having trouble controlling his systems. He opened his eyes finally though they were halfway open and the world was just a bit blurry a little to blurry nothing was clear.
Keira was just about to collapse, so distaught was she, when Reese suddenly coughed and stirred. But he had just been dead? What the hell had happened? "Reese?" she questioned, afraid this was only a dream - an illusion. She hadn't slept lately, and the sudden flow of emotion had left her light-headed. She turned her tear-stained face towards him again and noticed that his eyes were actually trying to focus, and he coughed again. "Reese!" she called, hoping that he would answer her. "Stewart, he's alive!"
Love? So it seemed. People latched onto people in situations like these. Relationships formed in high stress situations never lasted. Did he know that from his friend that was a relationship councillor or was that off a film? Either way it didn't matter. So Reese was alive. Hate it as he did he'd felt something when he thought he was dead. It was by no means on par with Keira, it wasn't exactly remorse either. Perhaps a parents upset when the pet goldfish dies. Not that phased, a situation they expect but one they didn't want to occur given the effect it would have on their child (or in this case his company). Reese a goldfish? He wondered if he could take that analogy any further.
"I'm.....alive...." Reese said it was probably the only thing that he could manage to say. He had massive pain in his chest, his chest was the dominant pain mostly. He couldn't feel the broken arm very well. He could barely tell it was Keira's shrieking and Stewart's boring language. He really was trying to get his eyes to do what he wanted them to do. He wanted them to look to see what the hell was going on, but for some reason they refused to obey. * * * Damn. You're alive. Stewart stared at Keira with a smile and care in his eyes. Even though he didn't feel it through his heart. "Yes, Reese is alive," Stewart said with a smile.
Donovan's smile left his face. The joy at hearing that Reese was dead removed as the man came back to life. Came back to life? "Stewart can any of these aliens reanimate the dead, Like the divers." Donovan looked in the room at Reese. Reese was'nt human any more. Humans do not die and come back something was wrong.
Keira managed a smile. Something was up with Stewart. He wasn't himself. But what was wrong with him? Stewart wasn't as important as Reese at the moment, however, so Keira turned her full attention on the wounded man. He seemed to be in agony; it hurt her seeing him in such a state of pain. And he was having difficulty opening his eyes. "Can you see me?" she asked, concerned.
Vic caught up with Jena and grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to stop. If he hadn't, there was no telling how far she'd have run. He thought she simply wanted to be alone for a minute or two, but it was beginning to seem as if she was running off to die, alone in a dark corner of the facility. With the alien tracker on her, that was not only possible, but highly likely. "What's the matter?" he said, releasing her. They were down the hall from the others, well out of earshot, but still within view. Vic really didn't care what became of Reese or how Keira would react. He preferred to focus on the members of the group who were alive and sane... which made him wonder why he'd bothered to follow Jena.
"All....I....have to do is....gain some bearing," Reese said. It was getting better talking through the pain and the mostly not being able to breathe. He felt like he was breathing through a straw at times. And at other times a larger Icee scoop straw. He just had to focus his mind to see, he just had to focus a little. The room was slightly becoming more and more into his eyes. Just focus hard. * * * Suffocate you bastard. "It's good to know you are alive....maybe we could use the med box to help a little," Stewart said getting up quickly, "I'll be quick and get it...okay." Stewart walked out of the room. And he smiled at Anna. "I'll be quick to get the box," Stewart said. Stewart started a sprint down the hall. The truth he was using it an excuse to clear his head. To make sure no one could read his thoughts or better yet collect his thoughts. What made him think those things? He shouldn't think those bad things. He had gotten to the armory quicker then what was expected. Guess when you are thinking like crazy that happens. He walked in to grab the box and stared at it. No light shown, it's battery was toast. Someone must have used it again and that took out all the juice. Stewart began his sprint back to the group. Now he could come back refreshed and with better emotions.
Keira watched as Reese struggled to focus. Obviously it was very difficult for him, and with Stewart gone she felt very much alone . . . uncomfortable. "You'll be fine. Take deep breaths," Keira whispered, the only thing she could think to say. Stewart had taken off after the med box. That would come in handy right about now. But when he returned empty-handed, Keira's hopes were dashed. "No med box?" she questioned, worry creasing her brow. How could Reese make it without medical help?
"The battery has went out someone used it before we left or so I assume," Stewart said, "But I am sure Reese is tough enough to go along until we find another source of medical aid." Stewart stared at Reese and stared at Keira. Why did he have this sudden urge to beat down Reese at this moment? Why did he have such a violent urge? * * * Reese was able to focus a little better now, though he wished he didn't see the world in clear blur like this. Keira was so close and the emotion of worry stung through her eyes. He wished his vision wasn't clear enough at this moment because he didn't want to see that. It placed to much pressure on him because he had never had anyone care about him only hate him. It made him sick to his stomach knowing his dying memories were that of his father who hated him. Everyone hated him he was sure of that. He was sure when he was born the doctors were suddenly disgusted by him. He was sure when he was born his own mother was disgusted by him, that was why she walked out the door when he was only two. That was why he didn't like focusing on her eyes like this, he distractedly looked somewhere else. Though he made it look as if he were testing his eye sight out. "I'm taking as...deep of breaths as I can," Reese said it was becoming better to talk through pain and the very harsh breathing he had to deal with, "Please help me up." "I don't think that's a good idea we don't know the extent of the wound and we don't want t aggravate it any more," Stewart said. "The extent made me pass out...we know the damage, and I'm not laying on the cold....floor....for long...up now I would like that," Reese said.
Keira nodded, and even though Stewart was probably right about aggravating the wound, she did as Reese asked, wrapping her arm around Reese to support him as he sat up. She knew how painful this must be for him. It probably felt like Hell. Once he was in a sitting position, Keira helped him to his feet, which was most likely even worse. "Are you still alright?" she asked gently. He was too heavy for Keira to carry; hopefully Stewart would step in soon. "Just don't die on me again, okay?" That was the last thing she wanted. "The others are waiting outside."
First it was the sitting up phase that hurt like hell and then the standing up hurt even worse. This was going to be fun. Then Keira went to support him. He was bred for this bred just to walk it off and continue. Just walk it off and continue...it was what his father had taught him. Reese pushed himself away from Keira's support. "I...just...have to walk it off a bit...I don't need support," Reese said, "I'll be fine." Some part of Reese wanted to know how many ribs he broke, why it hurt to breathe so much, and why did he taste blood in his mouth. Another part didn't want to know. All he knew was that he wanted to sleep. But he had just slept there, so why did he even wanna sleep now? Well that was more pass out and die for a moment. Reese stared at woman he had never seen before. "Who's she?" Reese said. * * * Keren smiled. "Keren Heartbreaker," she said. "I don't remember....." "Long story," Keren said with a smile.
"Who is he talking to?" Donovan stared at the empty space in front of Reese Great now this guy is going off the deep end. "Is anyone else as curious as me as to how he is back alive. I think that is pretty important." Vic was gone after Jena. Hopefully he gave her some bud to blaze. He was here with the other members of the circus troop as they all stared in awe at Reese. Reese the freaking ironman. Something was wrong here and he was the only one seeing it. He should put two bullets in Reese now, but he would wait.
"I...I'm...I" Jena couldn't force cohereent words out, tears began to gather in her eyes, and before she could stop them they started to pour down her cheeks. She tried to brush them away, but they were coming to fast so she gave up. Suddenly it truly truly brokw down, she needed someone to hold her, and without thinking of the consequences or what people would thing she let herself fall forward to bury her face into Vic's shoulder.
"I...I'm...I" Vic knew what was coming. He'd seen it a million times. It was amazing how many people would pour out their heart to a total stranger when under the influence. He'd been around that sort of thing for years, but never really paid it any mind; they would always sober up and get over it. But Jena wasn't high... at least not on what he smoked. Stress was the worst drug of all. Vic caught her as she buried her face in his chest and began to cry. "You're what?" he asked, trying to make sense of what was probably just inane rambling. "Go on, let it out," he said, softly patting her on the back. Anybody who thought he didn't have a sensitive side couldn't be more wrong.
