Tear In My Heart (COMPLETE)

Chapter Seven

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope, nope, nope!

Never would he ever have seen himself lugging a sure or soon to be long dead comrade over his shoulder, having narrowly avoided being caught -- but this was where Tim Wright had found himself, with his jacket wet with sweat and blood and feet aching more than they should. His lungs burned harder than what any amount of alcohol and cigarettes would do, and he was rather impressed that he hadn't passed out yet. But he couldn't - not until they were safe, until he was safe.

Tim couldn't blame himself, he knew truthfully. They should have been more careful, should have checked the house more thoroughly, and with that would have likely found the basement where the estranged grandfather had been residing with his own protection in the form of a handgun. Toby had, at first, unknowingly taken the shot. All they had heard was the sudden gunshot ring out, and then there was a flurry of motion as the grandfather tried to overtake them. It didn't end in his favor, obviously.

But it wasn't until they were stashing the man's body that Tim recognized the bloody mess that was pooling around Toby's side as he walked; or even his stumbling before that, complaining of dizziness when he otherwise shouldn't have it. He had gotten shot, and by a good aim no less. And of course Tim panicked - why wouldn't he? If only he had been paying more attention - it was Toby's back to the door leading to the basement, Tim was facing it; he should have seen the man before he even aimed. But he didn't.

He couldn't take Toby to a hospital, he knew. Too many questions from concerned nurses and whatnot. Couldn't risk anyone getting caught, especially with the notion that you were on your own if you were caught. He could always leave Toby at a hospital to get treatment and possibly locked away for the rest of his life - or even easier, leave him at that house to bleed out, say the mission had gone awry and everyone would easily believe him. No one would genuinely bring a dead body home, after all, nor would they question someone passing while out on the job. It'd happened before, and why anyone rarely got too close to else. Because you could lose someone at any moment, as to be expected; and you didn't want to get too close if something like that occurred..

But he couldn't. He couldn't just leave the kid there and let him die. Not again. Not like Jay. He was just glad Toby couldn't feel the pain of the bullet wound, at the very least; else he'd be in a lot worse time than just lulling his head against the other's shoulder as Tim walked heavily along. He kept a moderate pace, which surprised even himself as he trudged into the woods with the weight of a man and a half in his arms.

"God, Rodgers," he found himself muttering even through his mask, yet his grip on the other ever tightening, "for someone that skinnier than hell, you sure are heavy."

There came a weakly muttered response, Toby's eyes fluttering open momentarily before closing just as quickly. Tim grunted, trying to pick up speed or momentum - whichever came to him first, really - with the reality that he probably didn't have enough time at this rate carving a hole into the back of his skull. But no, he would refuse to let that happen. Not again.

And God forbid to Toby, of all people.

***

Tim had found the well quite easily -- and Hoody to boot, given that once he joined Toby on the other end, he had found the mustard wearing hooded Proxy helping the injured teen to his feet with an almost concerned expression on his face (how it was possible, Tim wasn't too sure he wanted to know). He was just glad the other had a decent bout of timing on him.

Said hooded figure gave him a questioning glance as Tim got to his feet and stumbled to help carry the weight of the youngest Proxy.

"Shit went south," Tim grunted as they began quickly up the path, "real fast. An' -- I couldn't just leave 'im."

Hoody gave what Tim could only assume to be a nod of understanding as he helped to lean part of the partly dead weight onto one shoulder via an arm slunk around his shoulders; Tim with the other as they half dragged Toby towards the mansion.

It took less time if it were just Tim, though that didn't stop the rise of confused and concerned sounds as the raven haired man half knocked the door in with his free shoulder; anxiety at its peaks as he could tell the young killer's breathing had begun to slow. Tim practically ignored the questions that were bombarding him as he felt Toby's weight shift to him fully, Hoody half helping Tim make his way to the basement and half shooing away anyone that began to pry a little too closely.

It wasn't until the teen was given to Dr Smiley and was lying on a bed; not until he himself was half forced onto his own bed and jacket stripped off to check for any wounds by Hoody, did Tim find himself able to relax fully. His vision teetered, vaguely hearing Hoody - no, Brian's voice telling him softly to lie down, that the raven haired killer could actually find it in him to relax and allow sleep to overcome him.

( As to how Toby made it vs Jay didn't -- I believe Proxys are just a tad more resistant to dying than most. While they don't gain any super natural qualities per say, being tougher to take down upon being marked does seem like an ability Slender could give to Proxys. They're still obviously quite killable. I'd just imagine it'd take more than a bullet to do that. )