Hidden and Silent (SpyxFamily)

Ch. 21: Part Two

       It hadn't lasted long, had it? The promise of safety the Forgers had promised. The shield over his head holding the darkness at bay. The hope he had finally let himself consider, however cautiously and tentatively. There had been a possibility that everything might change, that things could be okay, that he could have a relationship with his little brother without having to worry what it might do to Damian or himself.

He had been safe and warm and the feeling was eradicated just like that.

Demetrius fought for calm. He fought to compartmentalize everything he didn't want to think about. He had to keep it together until they could escape the firemen escorting them out and the police that would greet them outside the building.

Telling himself that didn't do much though. He breathed shaky and slow, warding off the panic attack threatening to possess him the moment he let himself dwell on what was happening. His heart hammered too quickly to simply wrestle into control. Anya was being surprisingly still in his arm which helped. It would be harder to focus on not focusing if he had to focus on calming her own breakdown and keeping her from wriggling out of his grasp.

What did he do now? He had no plan. Nowhere to go. The attackers had found them so easily, so quickly, and—

Deep breath.

Another.

He had to keep it tog—

Deep breath.

Another.

A pained thought pricked Demetrius mind and he had to consciously loosen his grip on Damian's hand.

The fireman led them through a door and feet clapped echoes through the tall room as they descended the flights of stairs. Demetrius focused on each step carefully, watching his shoes land on the next step and the next. He held Damian's hand tight, afraid to let go. It was halfway down the last flight when he felt it and stopped. Anya felt it too.

Demetrius' breath hitched, gaze glued to his feet.

He had never hated so much to be right.

"Are you alright? We have to keep going, we're almost there." The fireman encouraged.

Yeah. That's what Demetrius was worried about.

The fireman got the children moving again and the object of Demetrius' fear stared back at him, freezing him to the spot outside the apartment's front entrance.

"Demetrius." His father said and the son's insides curled inwards to protect themselves. "I'm glad you're alright."

The prick pinged again in Demetrius' head, but the tight grip on Damian's hand was nothing compared to his little brother's own apprehension and held Demetrius' hand back, just as tight.

As much as Demetrius wanted to look away, he couldn't. The sirens no longer ran, but the colours spun just the same, washing his father in it's light every couple seconds. Even as Demetrius was pulled away from the building, he couldn't look away as they were instructed to sit on the ambulance to get looked over.

They should escape now. Run while they had a chance before it was too late. Slip into the night and melt into obscurity, flee the country, but Demetrius just couldn't move. He was pinned under his father's eyes. Cold, soulless eyes that had always unsettled him and promised retribution in only the way his father could convey without actually speaking.

Anya could probably hear how hard Demetrius' heart beat and the tension constricting his chest. He wondered if she even registered it. Damian was similarly frozen—everything he had been told about Donovan petrifying him into unknown fear with the knowledge that the Desmond boys were no longer safe from their father.

They should escape now.

There were too many people around. If they ran, would they be chased? Probably. How many of these people worked for his father? How many had given up their ethics to let him manipulate them? The paramedics were attending to the kids, they wouldn't be able to slip by unnoticed.

They had to—

They had to—

Deep breath. Breathe. Breathe. He pleaded with himself, remembering the hand on his shoulder and the warmth at his sides just yesterday.

The Forgers couldn't protect them anymore.

At last, his father broke contact and Demetrius did let himself breathe, shoving oxygen into his lungs as if he might store it there for when he couldn't breathe again. It would happen, he knew it. The relief on his chest was short-lived however, when the Forgers were brought out on stretchers. The object of his father's changed attention.

They were breathing. Demetrius had checked for vital signs before the firemen had ushered the kids out of the building, but the sight was a pain on his chest. A hitching tension he couldn't remember feeling before. They were still and. . .helpless and. . .

. . .and quiet.

They shouldn't be hurt like this. Demetrius should have returned home, or at the very least, taken Damian and ran, no matter how futile it would be or how much he'd wanted to have someone to rely on for once. What would happen to the Forgers now? What would happen to Damian and Anya? To Demetrius? Would his father leave Damian alone now that he had Demetrius? He wouldn't try to use both of them, would he?!

No. No. If Donovan even attempted to use Damian, he would lose his advantage over Demetrius and the eldest son knew that using him instead of Damian worked out for their father much better than anything else. He wouldn't risk Demetrius' cooperation and his years of experience for the slim possibility that Damian might become an esper or the fact that doing so, would set his plans plans back by years.

This had to be true. Demetrius didn't know what he'd do if it wasn't.

It was a small comfort.

When the paramedics declared the children were fine and the police didn't bother coming to speak with them, Demetrius knew it was his father's work. What had he told them? What lies and stories had he roped Demetrius into? How were the police alright with Anya being escorted with the Desmond family to their car?

The car. A pristine thing that gleamed dauntingly even amidst the lingering shadows of smoke and traces of filth and pieces of rubble decorating the ground. The grenade wasn't too destructive, but it had taken out most of the apartment room's street-facing wall and the dusty remnants still slightly choked the air.

The car. When had they started walking over? When had one of his father's drivers guided the children to it's open doors and waited for them to get in? Demetrius paused suddenly, a surge of gripping fear catching him as he processed what he was looking at. The implications of stepping inside where the doors would be locked and then driving too fast to get out. Delivering them to that house.

Escape.

They had to escape.

A pounding thudded in his chest, the only sign his body still pumped blood. It was hard to tell when every bit of him felt like a popsicle. He should run. Where? How many agents were scattered throughout the streets just waiting for him to do that and catch them? He could feel them. The presence of their minds leaking from the telepathic inhibitors no matter how much they thought the devices hid them from his awareness.

They were stuck. They had lost.

No.

No, no, no. Demetrius couldn't do this again, he couldn't, he couldn't, he cou—

Breathe.

He wouldn't be there forever. He'd make a plan, he'd—he'd—he'll do something. He couldn't—he couldn't stay there. There must be something he can do. The Forgers couldn't protect them anymore and now Demetrius had to protect Anya as well as Damian.

He wanted to break down crying when he didn't know how to do that. Not against him.

The driver waited for them to enter. Donovan didn't verbally chastise Demetrius for his dallying and watched him harshly. Silently warning him.

Demetrius desperately latched to the hope he could find a way out for all of them and found himself automatically boarding the vehicle. If only to escape his father's gaze if he couldn't escape all-together.