Gₒₒd ₒₗd₋Fₐₛₕᵢₒₙₑd ₗₒᵥₑᵣ Bₒy ~ Dᵢᵣₖ Gₑₙₜₗy

Everything Comes To An End

Sicillian dropped to Dirk's side immediately, panic welling up in her chest. He'd just tripped. Right? The brunette began to frantically tap his shoulder, willing the brit to get up so they could run, finally getting out of Blackwing and putting an end to it all.

"Come on, Dirk, get up! Fucking get up!" There was blood and soot on her face, but the Hollistic Assistant paid no mind, focused entirely on the male figure slumped to the floor in front of her. He was showing no signs of moving.

The rest of the group, holistic and non-holistic, were gathered round, utter shock etched into their faces. Most of them were too surprised to cry. But not Todd. A few seconds after Sicillian, he was on the ground too, but instead of trying desperately to wake the man, his body wracked with sobs. The detective was his first friend. He couldn't be gone.

The green eyed American trusted from his shoulder, turning Dirk over. His face was utterly still, not even so much as a twitch. Blue irises were glassy, staring perpetually at some distant point only he could see. The assistant turned away, the first tears beginning to track down her face.

Farah, upon seeing the emotionless expression, snapped out of her shock, going straight into protective mode. She lent over, feeling around on his neck for a pulse. She adjusted her fingers a few times. The bodyguard was probably just unable to find the point of pressure, hands shaking too much, because there was no sign of life. She swore loudly, forcing her hand to steady. Even with an unmoving palm, there was no pulse.

Sicillian looked up at the curly haired woman, begging her silently for good news. Imploring.

"He's-" Farah took a rattling breath, "He's dead, Sicillian. I'm sorry-" But she was cut off for the despairing wail of a lover separated.

The Hollistic Assistant's cries might have been heard all over Blackwing, but as it happened, they were the only ones left. Ken and Sofie had ordered a complete evacuation post their escape. The place was deserted now that Priest and his crew were gone.

She turned back to look at the Hollistic Detective, the neutral expression etched into his face. This was her fault. She'd done this. The explosion was on her order, her command, her actions. And it had killed the person she loved above all else. They'd been allowed eight months of peace.

Good things never last.

Sicillian placed her hand on Dirk's cheek. Despite the heat of the fire before, the skin was already beginning to cool to the deathly cold that she feared. He hated being cold. The brit would need a jacket. She looked up desperately to her friends.

"Can't anyone do something?" Her voice was shaking, words barely able to fight for sound against the wailing and agonising cries of pain. "Please?" They looked on solemnly, unable to answer. Because none of them could.

"Sissy..." Todd croaked out. The ex bellhop moved over, wrapping trembling arms round her. The two Americans clung to each other, staring at the body of the man who'd brought them together and forged this friendship.

"Francis, you- you brought back all the people in Wendimoore, surely you can..." She trailed off.

"Those were people in my domain. I created them in the first place." The young boy looked sorrowful. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do."

Helios stood watch on the sidelines. His guilt was overwhelming. He'd helped Sicillian with the explosion. It was his fault too. Yet his eyes didn't mist over like his brunette friend, instead he was frozen, expression somber.

"Aleksandra, Rohan, Alastor, I don't know what you guys do, can you... Can you help?" She was looking for a way out, hoping for some miracle. Because she knew if this was real, and as of now it was, there was no way she'd get out feeling anything less than alexithymic. The two men shook their head.

"I can talk to the dead. Not bring them back." The Polish woman replied. There was a hint of sympathy in her voice. For someone who only spoke in monotone and was the epitome of nonchalant, it was surprising to hear. However, what she'd said had perked £Sicillian's interests.

"Could you talk to-"

"No." The answer was firm and simple. "It doesn't work like that."

"YOU HAVE TO TRY!" The Hollistic Assistant screamed, the pain in her voice tearing her throat, each syllable painful. When it became apparent she would get no further words from Project Miru, she scanned the faces of the others. Her green irises settled on Amanda, and suddenly, something clocked with her.

There was a reason the ravenette had been so on edge, so nervy and touchy. She'd seen this. She knew what was going to happen. She knew.

"You saw this, didn't you?" Sicillian's voice was dangerously low. "You knew this was going to happen."

"No, I-" The drummer tried to protest, but was interrupted by the assistant wrenching herself out of Todd's embrace.

"YOU KNEW ALL ALONG AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME!" She advanced towards the younger Brotzman. Had she been of sound disposition, the brunette would have seen the atrocities of her behaviour. But she needed something, someone to blame.

"I thought I could stop it, I didn't want to worry anyone!" Amanda tried to explain. The grieving woman was having none of it.

"You should have told us so we could have helped!"

"I did, I told Todd, but..." She trailed off immediately, knowing she'd just fucked up with her words. Sicillian rounded on her friend.

"You knew too?" There was a sort of sadness in her voice. "Did everyone except me know?!" The drummer immediately shook her head rigorously, insisting no one else did. The Hollistic Assistant span in a slow circle, taking in the faces of her friends. Then she did something cowardly, that she'd regret later. Something she'd never done before.

She ran, not even waiting for her friends; she ran and refused to look back.