((Okay, this story is a little old now, but took place a couple of hours after the events where Amber Banshee was rescued from her captivity and torture. The rescue event was run under fairly extreme rules and ended up with two characters dead, two maimed and all suffering from wounds both physical and mental which would affect them for months to come!! Anyway, enjoy.))
[u]The Night After[u]
4:30am Friday, 29th June 2007 Bell Medical Centre, Independance Port
The air conditioning vent blew fresh, cool air into the dark hospital room. Its gentle hum added a layer of accompaniment to the quiet "beep, beep, beep" of a heart monitor down the hall and the wheezing breaths of a sleeping Tygerboy. Jay sat on his bed, hugging his knees with bandaged hands, rocking gently in time to the rhythm of the room. The cooled air ruffled Jay's hair as he lifted his face towards the grill, his right eye closed. It was a strange sensation, feeling the air with only one side of his face, as the left side was covered with bandages and numbed by anaesthetics.
Jay's body ached with a tiredness from weeks of activity and stress, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. He kept thinking back on everything that had happened; re-living the events through a prism of tired recollection. They had been brought to the Bell Medical Centre barely two hours ago; the sirens and lights of their Hero Corps transport announcing to the World how badly they'd been beaten. The others had watched as Saffron and Markos had been rushed to Intensive Care, nurses and doctors hovering over the rolling gurneys like carrion birds in white. The rest, the survivors, were subjected to tests and treatment, before being taken to quiet places of recovery. Jay gently touched the soft padding covering what was left of his left eye socket. He couldn't even feel the pressure of his own fingers against the fabric. He smiled to himself; it was probably just as well. He'd have the rest of his life to feel what it was like to lose an eye. He put his chin to his knees and closed his eyes.
The mission to rescue Saffron had started well. Despite being outnumbered, they had dispatched the guards with an impressive efficiency; although discovering that some of the men had been booby trapped by their masters came as a shock to everyone. However, a good start is never the whole story, and things had gotten progressively worse. Coile had become trapped under a pile of rubble, his powered armour destroyed, leaving him powerless. Strike one. Markos, the ex-Lost named Found, had become separated from the team and had lost an arm to the powerful blast of automated defences. Strike two. Jay himself had taken a shot to the face with some exotic weapon which had left his eye literally burning. Strike three. Dante Carver and Jay's cousin, Mal, had both fallen and been lost before the end. How many strikes do ya get before ya fail?
But they had won, and Saffron was home. And that was the point, wasn't it? That was why so much risk had been taken, and it had been the right choice. Right? Then why did it taste so bitter...
The heart monitor continued its unrelenting assault on silence, with the air con and Tygerboy's wheezing laying down covering fire. Jay couldn't take it; he had to talk to someone or he felt he'd start to scream and might not stop. He reached for the multimedia unit that hung over his bed and picked up the phone. He quoted his Amex number to the hospital's operator and gave her the number he needed to be connected to. She reminded him that it was 4:30am. Jay thanked her, but insisted he be put through. Her voice was replaced by a dialing tone and then a ringing. In the isolated darkness of the room, it seemed to ring forever before it was answered.
"Hello? Yeh?" The tired voice was of a man in his 50s, with the same accent as his son.
"Howdy Pa." Jay said to his father, his eye tight shut and relief evident in his voice.
"Jay? What's the matter, son? Is everythin' okay?"
"No, it's all pretty much far from okay..." Jay said. He choked slightly as he spoke. "Mal's dead, Pa."
There was silence. The phone crackled, as if nervous when no voices were carried through it. Jay couldn't take the quiet anymore. "Pa?"
"How'd it happen, son?" Bobby Reynolds' voice was slow, and calming. "Have ya told ya Aunt Marianne yet?"
"No Pa, ah ain't told no one else. It only happened a couple'a hours ago. See, he was shot, right in front'a me, an'... ah couldn't... ah didn't..."
Jay breathed slowly, trying to control the rising panic. He couldn't explain what had happened to his father, not without giving everything away. Jay had never had a secret identity. He'd been too excited when he first became a registered hero to even give it any thought, but Mal had done differently. His mother wouldn't know Mal's secret, nor would Uncle Bobby, Jay's father. Could he still claim to keep that secret? Do you owe anything to the dead?
"Pa, ah've got somethin' ah need to tell ya," Jay said slowly. "Mal, he was... he died cos..."
"Ah already know, son. Marianne told me."
It was Jay's turn to be shocked into silence. His mouth opened, but he didn't know what to say. They knew?
"Jay... Son. Marianne is Mal's Mom, an' there ain't nothin' that a child can keep from their folks, no matter how careful they think they're bein. It don't matter how much they think they're protectin' us from the truth, we know anyhow."
His voice was gentle, like speaking to a crying child as he bathed a cut knee; soothing and comforting.
"Thing is, we let y'all do it, so it's our own fault. We know, an' we wait fer you to find the right time to tell us, because that's important to ya."
Jay suddenly realised this wasn't all about Mal. His father knew his secrets too, and had kept them closer than Jay had himself.
"I'm sorry, Pa."
"Ain't nothin' to apologies fer, son. Ah love ya fer who you are, Jay. Same as ah love ya sister. Ain't nothing either of ya can do or say to change that. Now... tell me what happened."
Like a dam which cracks and then bursts, Jay told his father everything. They talked about Saffron's disappearance, about the investigation and the rescue mission. They talked about Jay's injuries and about how Mal had died. Then they talked about Mal; his life, his loves and fears, everything that he had done that touched them somehow. Jay and his father laughed and cried for over an hour, sharing their memories and baring their souls.
"Ya know, Jay," Bobby said, after his son had recounted another story of Mal's exploits as Redsight, "seems to me that there's somethin' ya never saw about Mal. Somethin' ya should try carry with ya now that he's gone. Mal knew how to turn life to his advantage, to take a hit an' change his course. You're too much like me, son. We're both kinda bullish an' stubborn. We keep goin' against the tide, fightin' on in a straight line cos that's the way we picked at the start, even when things change an' there might be an easier way.
See, when Maddy died, ya took that accident an' ya chose ta carry it like a burden; yer keep tryin' ta save everyone 'cos ya couldn't save her, son. But Mal survived that accident an he turned it inta a strength. He took what happened ta him an' he said "Ah'm changed, but ah have survived". YOU survived this, son. Don't turn that inta another burden."
Jay blinked, his face red with tears as he listened to his father's words. "Ah'll try, Pa. Ah promise ah will."
"Good boy, Jay..." His father paused. "There's somethin' else, son. Put yer things in order. The grief an' the anger; it'll all come, an' when it does, it won't brook no denyin'. Ah remember that from when ya Ma died. So, get yer business in order now, son, cos yer won't be able to later, ah can promise yer that. An' after that... Well, ya gotta decide whether ya press on regardless, or try an' find a new way."
Jay nodded, and then, for the first time, noticed the music. Inside his head someone was singing a lullaby. He recognised it as one from his childhood, and with the song came a memory of Mal, sitting on Jay's little sister's bed, singing her to sleep.
"Ya can't keep anything from Chelsea, Jay. Ya should know that." Chuckled his father, his sleepy voice sad and amused. "She might not always seem like she's here with the rest of us, but she loved Mal same as you. Try ta remember the good times. It's better ta celebrate a life, son."
"Thank ya, Pa." He said, and wishing his father good night, he hung up the phone.
Jay lay on the hospital bed, his face throbbed with pain and his one good eye ran with tears, but in his mind his sister sang to him a lullaby of their childhood, and for the first time in weeks, Jay Reynolds rested in deep and dreamless sleep.
[u]END[u]
Formerly @Crimson Archer, now @CA The Militia - Protecting Paragon City through roleplaying since June 2006!
((Okay, this story is a little old now, but took place a couple of hours after the events where Amber Banshee was rescued from her captivity and torture. The rescue event was run under fairly extreme rules and ended up with two characters dead, two maimed and all suffering from wounds both physical and mental which would affect them for months to come!! Anyway, enjoy.))
[u]The Night After[u]
4:30am
Friday, 29th June 2007
Bell Medical Centre, Independance Port
The air conditioning vent blew fresh, cool air into the dark hospital room. Its gentle hum added a layer of accompaniment to the quiet "beep, beep, beep" of a heart monitor down the hall and the wheezing breaths of a sleeping Tygerboy. Jay sat on his bed, hugging his knees with bandaged hands, rocking gently in time to the rhythm of the room. The cooled air ruffled Jay's hair as he lifted his face towards the grill, his right eye closed. It was a strange sensation, feeling the air with only one side of his face, as the left side was covered with bandages and numbed by anaesthetics.
Jay's body ached with a tiredness from weeks of activity and stress, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. He kept thinking back on everything that had happened; re-living the events through a prism of tired recollection. They had been brought to the Bell Medical Centre barely two hours ago; the sirens and lights of their Hero Corps transport announcing to the World how badly they'd been beaten. The others had watched as Saffron and Markos had been rushed to Intensive Care, nurses and doctors hovering over the rolling gurneys like carrion birds in white. The rest, the survivors, were subjected to tests and treatment, before being taken to quiet places of recovery. Jay gently touched the soft padding covering what was left of his left eye socket. He couldn't even feel the pressure of his own fingers against the fabric. He smiled to himself; it was probably just as well. He'd have the rest of his life to feel what it was like to lose an eye. He put his chin to his knees and closed his eyes.
The mission to rescue Saffron had started well. Despite being outnumbered, they had dispatched the guards with an impressive efficiency; although discovering that some of the men had been booby trapped by their masters came as a shock to everyone. However, a good start is never the whole story, and things had gotten progressively worse. Coile had become trapped under a pile of rubble, his powered armour destroyed, leaving him powerless. Strike one. Markos, the ex-Lost named Found, had become separated from the team and had lost an arm to the powerful blast of automated defences. Strike two. Jay himself had taken a shot to the face with some exotic weapon which had left his eye literally burning. Strike three. Dante Carver and Jay's cousin, Mal, had both fallen and been lost before the end. How many strikes do ya get before ya fail?
But they had won, and Saffron was home. And that was the point, wasn't it? That was why so much risk had been taken, and it had been the right choice. Right? Then why did it taste so bitter...
The heart monitor continued its unrelenting assault on silence, with the air con and Tygerboy's wheezing laying down covering fire. Jay couldn't take it; he had to talk to someone or he felt he'd start to scream and might not stop. He reached for the multimedia unit that hung over his bed and picked up the phone. He quoted his Amex number to the hospital's operator and gave her the number he needed to be connected to. She reminded him that it was 4:30am. Jay thanked her, but insisted he be put through. Her voice was replaced by a dialing tone and then a ringing. In the isolated darkness of the room, it seemed to ring forever before it was answered.
"Hello? Yeh?" The tired voice was of a man in his 50s, with the same accent as his son.
"Howdy Pa." Jay said to his father, his eye tight shut and relief evident in his voice.
"Jay? What's the matter, son? Is everythin' okay?"
"No, it's all pretty much far from okay..." Jay said. He choked slightly as he spoke. "Mal's dead, Pa."
There was silence. The phone crackled, as if nervous when no voices were carried through it. Jay couldn't take the quiet anymore. "Pa?"
"How'd it happen, son?" Bobby Reynolds' voice was slow, and calming. "Have ya told ya Aunt Marianne yet?"
"No Pa, ah ain't told no one else. It only happened a couple'a hours ago. See, he was shot, right in front'a me, an'... ah couldn't... ah didn't..."
Jay breathed slowly, trying to control the rising panic. He couldn't explain what had happened to his father, not without giving everything away. Jay had never had a secret identity. He'd been too excited when he first became a registered hero to even give it any thought, but Mal had done differently. His mother wouldn't know Mal's secret, nor would Uncle Bobby, Jay's father. Could he still claim to keep that secret? Do you owe anything to the dead?
"Pa, ah've got somethin' ah need to tell ya," Jay said slowly. "Mal, he was... he died cos..."
"Ah already know, son. Marianne told me."
It was Jay's turn to be shocked into silence. His mouth opened, but he didn't know what to say. They knew?
"Jay... Son. Marianne is Mal's Mom, an' there ain't nothin' that a child can keep from their folks, no matter how careful they think they're bein. It don't matter how much they think they're protectin' us from the truth, we know anyhow."
His voice was gentle, like speaking to a crying child as he bathed a cut knee; soothing and comforting.
"Thing is, we let y'all do it, so it's our own fault. We know, an' we wait fer you to find the right time to tell us, because that's important to ya."
Jay suddenly realised this wasn't all about Mal. His father knew his secrets too, and had kept them closer than Jay had himself.
"I'm sorry, Pa."
"Ain't nothin' to apologies fer, son. Ah love ya fer who you are, Jay. Same as ah love ya sister. Ain't nothing either of ya can do or say to change that. Now... tell me what happened."
Like a dam which cracks and then bursts, Jay told his father everything. They talked about Saffron's disappearance, about the investigation and the rescue mission. They talked about Jay's injuries and about how Mal had died. Then they talked about Mal; his life, his loves and fears, everything that he had done that touched them somehow. Jay and his father laughed and cried for over an hour, sharing their memories and baring their souls.
"Ya know, Jay," Bobby said, after his son had recounted another story of Mal's exploits as Redsight, "seems to me that there's somethin' ya never saw about Mal. Somethin' ya should try carry with ya now that he's gone. Mal knew how to turn life to his advantage, to take a hit an' change his course. You're too much like me, son. We're both kinda bullish an' stubborn. We keep goin' against the tide, fightin' on in a straight line cos that's the way we picked at the start, even when things change an' there might be an easier way.
See, when Maddy died, ya took that accident an' ya chose ta carry it like a burden; yer keep tryin' ta save everyone 'cos ya couldn't save her, son. But Mal survived that accident an he turned it inta a strength. He took what happened ta him an' he said "Ah'm changed, but ah have survived". YOU survived this, son. Don't turn that inta another burden."
Jay blinked, his face red with tears as he listened to his father's words. "Ah'll try, Pa. Ah promise ah will."
"Good boy, Jay..." His father paused. "There's somethin' else, son. Put yer things in order. The grief an' the anger; it'll all come, an' when it does, it won't brook no denyin'. Ah remember that from when ya Ma died. So, get yer business in order now, son, cos yer won't be able to later, ah can promise yer that. An' after that... Well, ya gotta decide whether ya press on regardless, or try an' find a new way."
Jay nodded, and then, for the first time, noticed the music. Inside his head someone was singing a lullaby. He recognised it as one from his childhood, and with the song came a memory of Mal, sitting on Jay's little sister's bed, singing her to sleep.
"Ya can't keep anything from Chelsea, Jay. Ya should know that." Chuckled his father, his sleepy voice sad and amused. "She might not always seem like she's here with the rest of us, but she loved Mal same as you. Try ta remember the good times. It's better ta celebrate a life, son."
"Thank ya, Pa." He said, and wishing his father good night, he hung up the phone.
Jay lay on the hospital bed, his face throbbed with pain and his one good eye ran with tears, but in his mind his sister sang to him a lullaby of their childhood, and for the first time in weeks, Jay Reynolds rested in deep and dreamless sleep.
[u]END[u]
Formerly @Crimson Archer, now @CA
The Militia - Protecting Paragon City through roleplaying since June 2006!