Hey everyone! About a week after my last update I began my HSC year. I'm sure any Aussie-whatever state-will grasp the significance of that, but to everyone else it's the year of school in Australia that decides your future. Lots of tests & stuff which leaves not much time for fanfics unfortunately. I just began Christmas hols and was able to get this done but I can't solidly promise any future updates, I will attempt to post but it'll be erratic at best. To all of my absolutely fabulous reviewers: daisykisses, Sparrow's Lassie, StinnaCullen109, Sammie0014, xhiddenvampirex, nikochan23,ThisLittleDeath,007-license to kill, Cassidy, lonelygirl101, Psycho-Bunny1309, My-Name-Is-Not-Dobby, Epona's Chosen, Sabira Wolf, FallenForTheDraco, Jasmine-Dec31, perfect-angel-13, .x, twilightangel61090, silverwolfkitten, XxJinxieUnluckyxX, xonoraxo, may, , TaKeMeToPaRiSs153, hanna, BadAssChick01, Mimi, Winged Angel Girl, beachbooksboys, Solstice Night, shaterredrose13, Shiba-san, JodieSamantha, Smash41KMF, , littledhampir13, .., kimmi0490 – thank you all so much, your reviews always make my day & I hope this little mention improves yours =) Hope you enjoy the chapter. Please read & review…
Watching someone die in front of you is weird. I mean I didn't think it would be the most normal of experiences but it wasn't like I'd envisioned either. Not that I had thought about it before. I felt guilty that I'd caused the scene before me, but more than that, I felt awkward. On about fifty different levels. I mean on one hand I knew what I'd done had to be done. There was no other way. But still, that nagging at the back of my mind persisted. You can still help. Call someone. Put pressure on the wound. It can be undone.
But I didn't do any of that. I felt so weird standing there, just ignoring it. Watching her die. I probably should have looked away. Respected her final moments. Helped Patch. But I couldn't. I had to see it through to her last breath. Because if there was one thing I'd learnt throughout this entire experience, it was that Dabria was as likely to spring back up as soon as I turned my back as she was to choke on her next breath. My eyes needed to stay on her.
She was fading fast. She wasn't able to talk, just mumble a string of syllables while blood gushed from her chest. I never realised how fake injuries on TV shows were until I saw that. Blood wasn't streaming evenly out through her chest, with every gulp of air she sucked in and pushed out a little fountain of blood would bubble up around the poker's perimeter. It was one particularly huge fountain gush, for lack of a better word, that made me pull the poker out. I thought it would help. I don't know if it did or didn't. Blood seemed to flow even more freely without it, yet there was no more "fountaining".
I felt my toes become damp and looked down to the floor. The crimson pool Dabria lay in had now reached my canvas bound feet. I edged back, my rubber-soled shoes squelching on the blood hardwood floor. The poker was still in my hand. A lead weight pulling my hand down, gravity trying to dip it in the blood it had spilled. It's weight, Dabria's choking sounds and the blood that dampened my feet were all I was aware of in that moment. All I could feel was the death I had caused.
The necessity behind it did nothing to numb those feelings and I don't think it ever would. But they were my burden to bear, no one else's, and I would not break down.
"Jesus Christ Nora-" A voice erupted behind me, hushed by my scream of surprise. It was only my scream and Rixon ignored it as he came forward into the cabin. I could see his shirt sleeve was torn and blood covered the edges of the frayed fabric.
"Are you okay?" I asked, nodding towards the tear that obviously hid a deep gash beneath it.
His eyes went from Dabria to his arm and he said nonchalantly, "oh yeah." He must have seen my confused reaction and quickly added. "trust me, it's the least of my worries." I didn't understand until he took a step further and saw that the two scars which all fallen angels had upon their back were bleeding. Not heavily at the moment, more like a slight trickle here and there. But the fact that the back of his outfit was a solid block of red told me that it had been a rough night for Rixon too.
"Do you need a hospital?" I said to his blood covered back as his face was facing Dabria.
"Nup, got it covered." He held his hand out to the side without turning around to face me. It was dirty, no doubt from the fight, but over the palm was a green-gold residue. I didn't know how that would help or even what it was but it was probably better that I left the angel healing to the angels.
Feeling certain Rixon would keep his eyes on Dabria as she continued to fade I stole a look towards Patch. He hadn't moved, his hand still open from when I'd taken the poker. His colour was slipping though. He wasn't dramatic white but he definitely didn't look normal.
"You should get him to the house…" Rixon spoke softly. He still stood before Dabria, looking as if he was in shock. I was about to tell him that I needed to stay, to see that Dabria was truly dead when he turned around and said in that voice no one could argue with, "go…"
His fingers reached down to my side and I followed them to see what he was doing. I watched as they curled around the bloodied poker. I hadn't even realised it was still there. He took it from my hand gently and I felt the weight of the death I caused lift a little. I opened and closed my hand twice, checking it was still able to move. It felt so numb, but as my fingertips brush against my palm twice I let go of a breath my shock and confusion had kept from escaping.
Patch twitched out of the corner of my eye, bringing my back to my instructions from Rixon. I reached his side and knelt down beside him. "Patch…Patch…Patch…"
He didn't answer. I wrapped my hands around his shoulders and shook them. Gently at first. Harder as I grew more worried. I thought he would wake up. I mean it was only as if he'd fainted, he should be waking up. I heard Dabria's mumbling grow louder in the background and my mind grew more frantic. Why wasn't he waking up? He had to wake up. Had to.
"Rixon he's not getting up! Why isn't he getting up?"
"Just get him outside, I'll be there in a sec."
"But he's-" I began.
"Just do it Nora! He is going to wake up! Just trust me!"
I looked back down at Patch wondering how I was meant to get him outside, ignoring the 'what ifs' in my head. Noticing his feet were closest to the door I lifted them up and began to drag him out. While I was sure this had to be the fastest way given our size difference it certainly wasn't as fast as I thought it would be. It would have looked comical if I'd been watching the scene and not actually having to be a part of it. Me dragging an unconscious angel to the door at snail speed, another angel standing statue still over a dying angel. Unfortunately I wasn't a spectator and the dragging process only grew more frustrating. When Patch woke up, and he would, he was getting a lecture on how annoying all that muscle was when I had to drag it through a door.
As I dragged his body through the front door I heard a croak break Dabria's constant mumbling. I looked up to see Rixon walking towards me. He no longer held the poker and Dabria was no longer mumbling.
"Let's go," Rixon said, kneeling down to sling Patch around his shoulders without any hesitation. I was relieved we weren't going to be dragging him up the hill but at the same time frustrated at how easy he made it look.
Rixon strode up the cluttered slope with confidence, never missing a step even under the weight of Patch. I stumbled over a few stones here and there but got up as soon as I was down, knowing that the faster we were up the hill the sooner Patch would be awake. The sky grew lighter as we walked, as if was helping us. I wondered whether it was the angels, whether they knew how close we were to fixing everything. Thinking back on everything though-the lack of co-operation, them wanting to take Patch away, the 72 hour deadline of which we had only lost 24 hours-something told me it wasn't them lighting the sky so early for us.
Keeping pace with Rixon was hard but as soon as I saw the now broken door of the house I was glad he hadn't slowed for me. I wanted to asked Rixon why the door was broken but a much more pressing question reached my lips as we came closer to the door, the dawn light revealing a ring of white hair streaming down the shoulders of of 6"1 frame…
"Why is Carnelian here?"
P.S I haven't had time to read Crescendo yet so I'm sorry for any deviations from the angel mythology in Crescendo if there are any…
Merry Christmas =)