The only Kiwi I'm not allergic to.

61

The room was still except for Amy's breathing, shallow and uneven, as if even sleep couldn't give her peace. Harrison sat in the chair by her bed, one hand cradling hers, the other covering his mouth like he could hold himself together if he just pressed hard enough.

At last, exhaustion tugged her under fully with the help of extra medication that was being pumped into her blood. Her fingers slackened in his, her chest rising in a fragile rhythm. Harrison didn't move. He couldn't.

He just sat there, hollowed out. Every so often, his mind dragged him back to the sound of her sobs, raw, jagged, unstoppable. It played on a loop, punishing him.

He bowed his head, pressing their entwined hands to his forehead. His lips trembled as words slipped out, words he hadn't planned, words that cut him open as they left him.

"I'm sorry. I should've...God, I should've kept you safe. I should've kept them safe. If I ever get the chance... if there's a heaven, if there's anywhere souls go... tell them I loved them. Tell them I would've given everything for them. For you."

The silence after was unbearable. His chest heaved, but no tears came. He was past tears. Only ruin remained.

The door creaked softly. Hoppo stood there, his face lined with worry. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then the older man crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair beside Harrison.

"Son," Hoppo whispered quietly, the weight of his voice grounding him.

Harrison swallowed, his throat raw. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be what she needs when I'm... when I'm this." His voice cracked on the last word, shame bleeding through.

Hoppo's hand landed on his shoulder, steady, fatherly. "Then you just sit. You hold her hand. You breathe. That's what she needs. Not some hero. Just you."

Harrison nodded, jaw clenched, as though the admission itself took everything he had left.

They just sat there quietly for about an hour and then, the door opened again. Jessie stepped inside, guilt etched into every line of his face. He hovered near the bed, eyes on Amy.

"I was supposed to keep her away," Jessie whispered. "I saw them first. Tried to push her back, tried to... I thought I had it under control. And then..." His voice cracked. He looked at Harrison, pained. "It's my fault."

Harrison shook his head, too tired for anger. "It was never yours to carry." His voice was hoarse, but there was a quiet conviction in it. "Don't put this on yourself."

Jessie blinked hard, tears shining, then gave a stiff nod he wanted to stay longer but he couldn't watch her like this. Amy had become a sister to him and what happened to her messed him up and so he decided he couldn't stay there and watch her suffer like that.  He soon said his goodbye and left before the grief swallowed him whole.

Silence swallowed the room again for another thirty minutes and then the boy that always had a smile on his lips, or at least should have had a smile on his lips walked in. Unlike unusual his eyes were read, the smile on his lips long gone. Jethro lingered in the doorway like he wasn't sure he was allowed in. His hands trembled as he gripped the frame.

"I tried to call for help," he said, his voice low and shaking. "But she... she told me not to. She radioed me herself. Said if I didn't cancel, they'd kill you. Or Jessie. What was I supposed to do?" His face crumpled. "I let her down."

This time, Harrison couldn't answer. He just closed his eyes, his hand tightening around Amy's as if to say, she's still here. That's all that matters.