Trouble in Terrorist's Town

The Pain of Loss and Regret (Mr.Hutch)

Dear God,no,no,no,NO,NO!

Those were the thoughts that surfaced in Scott's panicked mind as he was carried out of the house,Hutch huffing slightly as he ran. They had just barely made it out of range when a loud boom echoed through the whole world. The blast knocked Hutch forward,and he protectively curled himself over the shorter,his back taking the most of the blow from the exploding building. As soon as Scott felt the wave pass,he grabbed Hutch's arms,heaving both of them up. The other was whimpering in pain,and Scott dared a look before hurriedly leading them both into the closest building; a hotel. There were bits of wood embedded in the taller's skin,and a few rocks had buried themselves in his back as well,thrown up by the shock wave.
"You'll be okay,you're okay,"

Scott cooed softly,setting Hutch facedown on the couch in the main lobby,before jogging over to a room whose door said EMPLOYEES ONLY. He pushed it open,and found himself in a rather small room similar to a janitor's closet. He immediately sought out the medical supplies necessary to clean up Hutch's back,before jogging back to the said male. He kneeled down by Hutch's side,carefully easing the male's destroyed shirt up so he could get to the shrapnel. Hissing in discomfort,Hutch tried keeping himself still as Scott set to work,using the pair of tweezers he had managed to salvage to pull the splinters and rocks from the already bloodied skin. The splinters came out easily,slipping out of the pierced skin without leaving much behind. The rocks took a bit more encouragement to come out,and often came out soaked in blood,leaving traces of grime and dirt in the wound they left.

Hutch had passed out from pain when Scott had set about cleaning the damaged skin,but came to when Scott gently kissed his forehead. Opening his eyes,he found himself in a different room,and sitting against a wall. He could feel the bandages around his torso,and was all too aware of the torn holes peppering the flesh on his back. He got up and shakily looked around. They were in what looked like it could the penthouse,large windows on the walls,lavish furniture decorating the room,whose floor was covered in elegant scarlet carpet.

"Are you feeling better?"

Scott asked gently,and Hutch nodded. Scott sighed,and gingerly cupped the other male's cheeks and kissed him lovingly. Hutch surged up,leaning up into the kiss,his hands finding Scott's hips,resting in their well accustomed place. Scott pulled away,and pressed his forehead against Hutch's,murmuring,

"I love you,Shaun--"

"I love you too,"

Hutch replies,eyes reflecting his concern as he gazed up at his lover,who sighed.

"What's wrong,babe?"

"I'm...sorry.."

Perplexed,Hutch gave the male front of him a quizzical look. But Scott moved in and kissed him again,taking hia mind away from his concern. And then a horrible pain erupted in his abdomen,and he could feel something click in his brain. Terrorist. Scott was crying,and Hutch dimly felt his knees give out,and they both sunk to the carpeted floor. He felt Scott's hands twist in his hair as his face buried in the other's neck,his breathing becoming slower,head heavier. The pain in his stomach faded,but static was spreading through his body,like it had fallen asleep and he was trying to wake it up. He felt warm and oddly content,and couldn't figure out why Scott was crying.

And then the coldness set in,crashing over him like a wave,drowning him quickly and efficently beneath waves of pain as his lungs contracted. He could feel every single mechanic in his body slow,from the heartbeat in his ears,the blood rushing through his veins,his lungs struggling to try and intake oxygen for their dying host. He could feel his thoughts slow,and then fade out,leaving him in a waning silence,the only sound his slowing heartbeat and Scott's grief striken sobs. He could sense the blood pouring and gushing out of the gaping hole at his middrif. There was blood all over the both of them,and Hutch could just make out the silhouette of an elongated blade on the floor,staining the carpet an even darker red.

Hutch felt Scott pull away from his hair,and then chapped,quivering lips pressed against his cold,senseless ones. He felt his grip on life loosen,and a tear rolled down his cheek before he exhaled his last,eyes staring lifelessly up at the pale ceiling.

Scott sobbed brokenly as he staggered away from the corpse of his lover,tears streaming down his face. He took the alabaster tile from his pocket,flinging it away from him as the T warped onto the white surface. It hit the window and shattered it,the square falling to the ground below,suffering no damage whatsoever. Scott sunk to the floor,sobbing relentlessly,hands still slick with blood,making him want to retch. Eventually,with his throat burned raw from tears,Scott curled up on the bed in the room,darkness turning the room pitch black. He cried himself to sleep,mourning Hutch,and hating every bit of the game,hating that it had marked him a terrorist.

The best he could do?

Wait until he finally lost it and put a gun in his mouth.

Which,unfortunately for Hutch,who spectated his beloved,would happen far sooner than anyone could predict.