DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... CAN'T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE. This is blood and more blood... Before Jimmy's death. AU. Very. Read, review... may update... may lose interest... xD
I was frozen as I stared at my brother, held at gun point but a harnessed kid in the middle of the street. He was completely surrounded by skitters, and two mechs had their lights on him. His expression was blank and wary, but I knew by the slight tremor in his hand that he was scared, and by the way his gaze switched from one thing to the other. What made it worse was that the one holding the gun to his head was Karen. He loved Karen. Everyone knew that. The harness was gleaming brightly in the reflective sunlight, but I knew all Hal would see was her face behind the gun.
But I couldn't save him. My gun was destroyed from an earlier blast from a mech, and I was so far away. All I could do was look at the pained expression on his face and wish I could do something... anything.
"Karen..." Hal said her name quietly.
"You have killed countless of us and have stolen our children, removing their harnesses in cruelty. Do not speak that name," Karen responded in a voice both hers and not at the same time. She had always been a freedom fighter. This was not her.
"I..." Hal said but a hiss from a skitter silenced him.
"You are not to die yet, however... we have different plans for you." As she spoke, the mechs began to turn and walk away. Slowly the skitters left their formation and followed. Karen watched him unblinkingly for a moment before turning around to leave with her group. Then she said, "you will suffer as greatly as we have."
She turned and three gunshots went off. My brother screamed in agony, one hitting just above the knee, just below, and the last in his shin, making his leg buckle as he hit the ground in a heap. Karen and the skitters and mechs walked away.
"No!" My dad, standing next to me with Maggie and Weaver - all of us had been rendered useful from several mech blasts - jumped up and shot out of the building. Weaver called after him to stop, but Tom simply charged through the wreckage to reach Hal, and none of the skitters even turned and considered him for a moment. Heart racing, I followed, dropping to my knees beside Hal who was curled on to his side, holding his leg and writhing in pain. His pants were already soaked with blood all the way down to his shoes.
"Hal? Hal, let me see," Tom said, pulling Hal's hands from his leg. The wounds were streaming blood, two through-and-through, but the other had no exit.
"Get back to the airport!" Weaver shouted, starting the truck that had managed to escape damage. There was no time to be gentle. My dad and I both grabbed Hal under one of his arms an hauled him to his feet, hauling him into the back of the truck, trying to ignore his cries of pain. Weaver sped off, and we worked at tying off Hal's wounds to slow the blood loss.
I pulled Hal's head in my lap as he trembled and struggled hoarsely to breath through the pain. His dark eyes were glistening, and as our dad wrapped his third wound tightly, he put a death grip on my arm and shut his eyes tightly.
"Stay awake Hal," Tom ordered, and Hal opened his eyes again, staring at him with wide eyes.
He was still holding onto my arm with all of his strength, although if I tried, I could pry his hands off my arm. I wouldn't even dare to. The look in his eyes was bad enough.
My leg was burning. On fire. It stabbed through me, setting my nerves on fire and keeping a scream burning at the very edge of my throat. Breathing was hard, and it felt like every single movement would make me scream for real. I kept my fingers clenched around my brother's arm, squeezing so hard that it hurt. But it was a little bit of a distraction. I felt a deep ache in my chest, an all I could see was the empty look in Karen's eyes as she shot me.
Suddenly I was being lifted up again, and the pain made me whimper in extreme agony. I couldn't even move my leg, yet I could feel it like there was a thousand volts of electricity coursing through the veins. My leg was burning, and yet the remainder of my body was frozen like ice. I could hardly feel as I was half carried away.
Then there was something soft beneath me, and I knew it must be a stretcher. Struggling to focus, I saw Anne and Lourdes, and then Dad and Ben, Weaver and Maggie. I wondered if I could slip unconscious. We have long since run out of anesthesia.
"I have to get the bullet out, Hal, I'm sorry." I understood that. But I was in no way prepared for the pain that swept anew through my leg, and the scream I had been holding back escaped without so much a hesitation. Thrashing uncontrollably, I felt someone hold me down, but the pain continued, growing worse and worse until I was completely sure I was going to pass out. My head was spinning and everything was too bright. I couldn't even think. Or breathe.
Eventually my screaming died down but it was only because I could no longer produce a sound. Eventually, the pain began to ebb, and I wondered if it was over. Gasping for air and soaked with blood and sweat, I couldn't see a thing because my vision was so blurred. Every breath felt weird, as though it was barely bringing in air.
My awareness was falling apart, and pretty soon I had completely left, sinking into unconsciousness.
I was sure I was going to throw up. There was so much blood, everywhere. It streaked across the table, streamed down the legs of the table and pooled at the floor. How could my brother even survive losing that much blood? Dizzy from the horror of what was happening, I released my now unconscious brother and began to walk away, trying to keep my stomach in check. His screams were still echoing in my mind, though I'm not sure which was worse - his screaming, or the silence after he had driven himself hoarse and was still in pain. His eyes were beyond any reasonable consciousness. I tried to do anything to calm him, but he seemed to have no idea about my existence. And then he had passed out, thankfully.
I couldn't stand in there any longer, looking at the bloodied mess that was my brother. I tore out of the truck and quite literally found myself gulping in the cold fall air, practically gasping like a gutted fish. My father followed my out, stumbling and wiping his bloodstained hands over his face and through his hair, probably not realizing it.
Looking down at myself I realized I was covered in Hal's blood. I was going to throw up. I leaned against the side of the truck, breathing harder. "Oh, God..."
My dad was immediately beside me, hand on my back. "He'll be okay.. he's a fighter," he said.