Wounded Alex hated waiting. The only sound to break the monotony of the sterile waiting room was the dull echo of voices from the corner TV set. A late-night news update…traffic accidents, another homicide somewhere in Brooklyn…nothing new to any life-long New Yorker. Instead, the droning, nasal voice of the reporter was starting to get irritating. How could he stay so damn calm…? The only occupants of the waiting room sat quietly, dread hovering over them like an ill omen. They almost seemed polar opposites, an awkward pair…yet they were as close as siblings could get. Alex himself was a beast of a man…tall in stature and sporting an impressive build that was barely hidden beneath olive green cargos and a black muscle-shirt. His long blonde hair was tied back, a couple stray, wavy locks haphazardly hanging over his chiseled face. His brows furrowed in worry as his deep blue eyes—sharp and intelligent—stared rather defiantly at the closed window of the receptionist's desk. How long were they going to keep them waiting…? Alex's gaze quickly broke off when the considerably smaller figure of Patricia—a young girl perhaps no older than fourteen—stirred in her sleep. Unlike her intimidating companion, her frame was slim, her lightly curled hair a soft shade of brown that complimented her simple blue jumper and white blouse. An oversized black bomber jacket, obviously belonging to the elder of the two, was draped over her like a blanket. Alex's grim expression softened. Poor girl…she'd been fretting so much since her father had vanished without warning. But after worrying them both sick, he finally turned up…battered, bloodied, and two steps from the brink of death. Careful as not to jostle her awake, Alex draped a muscular arm around Patricia's shoulders, letting her lean against him as if he were a makeshift pillow. While not related by blood, he always saw her as his little sister since the day her father, Tom, had taken him in. Alex's biological parents were long dead, their lives stolen by some moment of misfortune he couldn't quite recall. If his father hadn't been such good friends with Tom… Thinking about it isn't gonna help you stop worrying.
Alex puffed a soft sigh as he leaned his head against the back of the room's couch. Waiting was something he was never good at. The television was still mindlessly broadcasting some sort of late night garbage with all the soul a machine could possibly muster. Three straight hours of it was becoming akin to torture; perhaps Patricia was taking the wiser approach by sleeping…albeit fitfully. What else could he possibly do other than twiddle his thumbs and hope for the best? It was those three hours ago that Tom had been wheeled into the ER, almost unrecognizable through the temporary patch job the paramedics had done. He had never seen so many white coats flying about so frantically in his life…and he hoped he never would have to again. God…please say he'll be all right…
Patricia rustled once again, letting out a muted groan as she did so. “…Alex…?” she mumbled groggily, her voice barely audible as she looked up at him with drowsy eyes. “…are they still in there…?” Alex's head rose, stray strands of blonde hair tumbling messily over his features as he turned to look back at the girl. “Yeah,” he murmured, the word oddly weighted. He failed to hold back a grimace when he noted her fearful look. “…they haven't come out yet.” Patricia seemed to curl up into a little bundle within Alex's jacket, nestling herself further within her surrogate brother's shielding hold. She bit her lip in anxiety, saying nothing as she took her turn to stare fitfully at the wall. Alex sighed inwardly. He knew that worrying wouldn't do either of them any good, but Tom was the only family either of them had. Their feelings of apprehension were only natural. They could've kept us updated, he thought irritably. I can't stand hospitals... A few more minutes of silence settled. Only the television in the corner made any sort of sound as a series of commercials flickered emotionlessly across its screen. Alex could feel drowsiness tugging at his eyelids, tempting him to take a short nap to wait the tense moment away. With the extent of Tom's injuries, the wait shouldn't have been such a surprise, but… He ventured a quick glance at a nearby clock. 12:24 AM… God, it was getting late. A dull click brought the room's two occupants to attention. Alex could feel his heart leap when the door beside the receptionist's window opened, revealing the white-coated form of one of the attending doctors. “How is he?” he hurriedly asked the newcomer, easing his arm away from Patricia's shoulders as he hastily got to his feet. The grim, tired expression upon the doctor's face did little to put Alex's mind to rest. “That's up to him,” came the reply. “We've managed to stabilize him, but his injuries were serious. It's amazing he was even alive when he was brought in.” A bizarre mixture of both dread and relief buried itself within Alex's chest. He slumped back down onto the couch, his expression stiffening as he took notice of the anguished look on Patricia's face. There had to be something to put both of them at ease, especially her… “Is there any way we can see him?” “Only for a short moment. He's still in the danger zone and needs his rest.” Alex gave off a curt nod. What more could possibly be asked for under those circumstances? He gently nudged the groggy Patricia to her feet, sliding his coat around and over her shoulders. “That's more than enough time,” he said, standing. “Well, step this way then.” The doctor held the door open, ushering the two through the threshold. “He should be in room 102B.” Within seconds, the door closed yet again, leaving behind a sterile room devoid of life and warmth. Only the incessant chatter of the television set as it yammered to itself could be heard echoing through the stark walls. Wailing sirens…flashing lights…the peal of rubber against asphalt. The entire hospital lot was lit up like Rockefeller Center during the Christmas season, the painful blues and reds of emergency bulbs shattering the night. The boxy shape of an ambulance swallowed up the ER's driveway, its brakes stopping on a dime. Organized chaos ensued almost immediately. To most, the arrival of the ambulance was nothing out of the ordinary. Accidents, assaults, gang fights, shootings and even rapes...the hospital doors swung open frequently. New York City was a city of skyward spires…and with so many people being crammed into such a small space, asking for trouble was almost redundant. To Alex, each passing siren and death wagon caused chills to run down his spine. The steady hum of his motorcycle’s engine soon stilled itself as he pulled the bike over, his eyes narrowed faintly. Like anyone else, he normally wouldn't give the ambulance a moment's notice. But recently he had good reason to change his tune; Tom had been missing for well over a week with no word or reason to why he had vanished. It wasn't like him at all… Alex stole a quick glance behind him, at the young girl who had her arms clasped around his waist like a lifeline. Patricia had suffered the most from her father's disappearance; she had barely gotten any sleep the entire week and her weary face showed it. Taking her out for dinner probably eased her mind for a moment, he figured. Things just weren’t the same without Tom being around, but…something was better than nothing. But…it just wasn’t like Tom to vanish like that. A note would’ve been left, something, anything, to put their minds at ease before he even considered leaving them alone for any length of time. A sharp-witted military man like that was enough of a force to be reckoned with…so why? Was there something he didn’t want them to know? Was it for their own safety…? Alex’s self-interrogation was interrupted by a slight nudge from Patricia. The look on her face made it evident that she didn’t quite expect the stop. “Alex? Is something wrong?” she asked, regarding her escort with evident perplexity. “…guess I’m just nervous,” Alex confessed, eyes glancing to the hospital lot—the ambulance in particular—across the street from where he had halted. The hint of a troubled frown formed upon his lips. He didn’t like the gut feeling he was getting… By now, a small crowd of morbidly curious people had started to gather. Alex almost felt guilty for allowing himself to be swallowed up by the group, but unlike the rest of them, he wasn’t there to see whether the unfortunate had been stabbed or shot. The chance was one in a million, but he had to make sure, just to put at ease one of the troubles bothering him. It didn’t take long for paramedics to come rushing out of the ambulance. The vehicle’s multicolored lights bounced violently off their uniforms as they threw the back doors open, doing their work with professional speed. Stretcher raised, the injured occupant was carted out from the belly of the metal beast, barely recognizable through all the bandages, IV’s, and breathing apparatuses that seemed to smother the platform. Alex squinted, trying to get a good look at the unfortunate’s face… “…oh God…” Alex reflexively tensed up, dread punching a hole through his gut. He only saw it for a fraction of a second…but that was all the time he needed. Dark hair, close-shaved beard, strong features visible even beneath vicious bruises…only one person he knew of looked like that. “Tom!?” Patricia was quick to react to Alex’s outburst. A look of abject horror engulfed her features as her gaze snapped over to the stretcher vanishing into the open doors of the ER entrance. “Dad…?” Her voice was weak, shaking…as if fear had stripped most of her energy away. But Alex didn’t seem to hear. His arms just went slack at his sides, the bitter taste of irony clinging to the back of his tongue. His face hardened with even deeper worry. They had found Tom after more than a week of sleepless nights, but… God seemed to have a really depraved sense of humor. The lights were dim…the room, soulless. Amidst the sea of Spartan simplicity that belonged to the sterile recovery room, a single bed sat flush against the wall. Within…its occupant lay enshrouded in linen bandages, wrapped up like a haphazard mummy of an age long past. He was beaten, bruised…hardly anything resembling the veteran fighter he actually was. Just seeing Tom like this was beyond painful.
Alex pulled a chair over as quietly as he could, settling himself into it in order to put himself a little more level with the bed’s height. A heavy sigh parted his lips, his head hanging slightly as he felt Patricia’s hands grip his shoulder. Her expression was anguished, frightened…the corners of her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. It was more than obvious that she was trying to force them back. He couldn’t blame her… “Tom…can you hear me…?” No answer at first. Alex silently gulped down a painful lump in his throat, his face tightening. He had never seen Tom like this…trampled within an inch of his life and condemned to being bedridden. Another moment passed with bated breath before a faint groan was issued from the shrouded figure. “…A-Alex…?” God…he sounded terrible. Tom’s voice was shattered, barely audible as he struggled to form words. “It’s okay, Patricia’s here too,” Alex whispered gently. His eyes quickly skimmed a glance over his surrogate father’s injuries…at the painful black bruises, burns, and cuts that marred his face and arms. Something about them didn’t seem right… A mournful glimmer reflected off the surface of Tom’s eyes as they opened, his head turning slightly to take in the two youths that had fret over him for so long. His struggling gaze eventually rested on Patricia, at the increasingly distressed expression she wore. “I’m sorry…” he said in his fragmented voice. “I wasn’t strong enough…” A fire ignited within Alex’s chest as soon as he heard those words. He took in Tom’s injuries once more, one by one, each location and strike, his hard blue eyes quickly narrowing. Anger quickly caused his heart to tremble. Each wound he saw was horribly precise, inflicted at places that would bring any opponent down…no matter their size, power, or stature. They were made by someone who knew how to fight. “Tom…who did this to you?” Yet another uncomfortable moment of silence settled. A genuine glimmer of dread hardened Tom’s dark irises as he made full eye contact with Alex. The younger man grimaced tightly in response, but held fast, face grim.“…you’re going to hunt him down, aren’t you…? It’s in your eyes…Alex…” Alex made no reply. He didn’t need to…after all, his intent was as clear as day. “…you don’t need to avenge me…” Tom rasped again, his tone defeated. “…you don’t understand…I wasn’t strong enough…that was all…” “That still doesn’t justify this!” Alex growled through clenched teeth. He could feel Patricia’s grasp upon his shoulder tighten, as if she were latching onto him for security. One of his own hands reflexively took hold of hers, a movement of reassurance. “I can’t let this go, Tom.” For a moment…a glimmer of sadness could be seen on Tom’s battered face. He let out a sigh, the sound rattling within his injured lungs. “Fine…I won’t stop you,” he murmured weakly. The light in his eyes seemed to fade. “…go and chase him, even…if he isn’t human. …go and see the world for yourself…” Alex’s free hand quickly clenched into a fist as he took prompt notice of Tom’s waning energy. “Please…you’ve said enough. Save what little strength you have and rest.” Tom let out another ragged sigh, taking a great amount of effort to turn his head and stare back up at the emotionless ceiling. His eyes slowly closed, confessing his exhaustion. “…you’re…on your own path now,” he managed to croak, the volume of his voice falling rapidly. “…so…now…I’ll just…rest…” He then lay there, motionless…save for the muted sigh of his shallow breathing. A shudder wracked Patricia’s slim form, so much that Alex could feel it through her hands. He quickly glanced over, rather taken aback when he noticed that tears were now streaming freely down the girl’s cheeks. “Oh God,” she choked, one of her hands clasping her mouth, muffling her trembling voice further. “Dad…you can’t…you just can’t…” Alarmed, Alex swiftly pulled his arms around Patricia, gently hugging her in a consoling manner as she released the brunt of her tears upon his shoulder. He understood that anguish clearly, but…instead of sorrow, all he felt was an increasing tide of rage. “He’ll be fine…Tom’ll be fine, he just needs sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure I find the one who did this to him…I promise.” I won’t let the bastard get away with it…
Patricia’s sobs stilled for a moment, only for her to look at her surrogate brother with fear written all across her face. “…no…you can’t!” she pleaded, shaking her head in horror of what he intended to do. “You can’t go, Alex! Whoever hurt Dad…he’ll do the same thing to you!” Alex almost felt as if he had put a knife right through Patricia’s heart. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the girl’s grasp as he rose to his feet. He hated to see her like this, but…this was all he knew he could do. “I won’t lose,” he said firmly, pausing to nestle his jacket more snugly around his sister’s shoulders. “Wait here for a moment…I’ll be back soon to take you home.” Patricia looked back at Alex, almost in disbelief. She slowly slumped into the chair, her mouth hanging loosely as the words she meant to say had fled before they could be formed. Regardless, she made no further protest…but the look in her eyes was killing him. “…I’m sorry. Just wait a little longer. Tom needs you with him right now.” Alex quickly turned, heading for the door that would take him back outside. He didn’t want to have to leave Patricia alone, even for a short moment. However, the anger he felt…he only knew one true way to release it, and a hospital was no place to lose himself… For what you did to Tom, whoever you are…you’re a dead man. |