Do You Fear The Reaper?

n i n e

The second RJ turned to face her, Maine wanted to cry out to him, go to his side and hold him tightly. Almost as if he knew what she wanted, she watched RJ rush towards her, falling to his knees and pushing back a piece of her hair behind her ear. Glazed eyes scanned his face, noticing for the first time how he had been beat up, hurt to the point where it was starting to already bruise. All the pain in her seemed to leave as she felt herself suddenly being surrounded in comfort of him being there.

Opening her mouth to speak, she watched as RJ's face contorted slightly, his hand going on his side. Maine's eyes followed and the moment she saw the blood stained shirt up close, she gasped.

Her heart that had started to slow down instantly began to pound hard again, that nauseating feeling of fear causing her stomach to sink. With wide eyes, she glanced at his face, noticing his own reaction to the find.

"No," Maine said lowly, moving quickly to catch him as he fell forward into her arms.

"RJ!" Maine said loudly, moving him as best she could into a more comfortable position on the floor. Putting her hand on one of the wounds, she felt herself wanting to cry and collapse on him, but she had to help.

"It's going to be okay," he told her as he reached out and shoved her lightly on her shoulder. "How's your foot?"

"It hurts," she said, wanting to laugh but the situation didn't call for any of it. "RJ, I'm trying to keep you alive. So just, shut up for a second!"

Maine watched his face go through numerous waves of emotions, ranging from sad, to apologetic, even flashes of pain. The blood that seeped out of the wound on his head trickled slowly into his eye and, out of desperation, Maine tugged the sleeve of her shirt down and wiped it away. Her heart was breaking slowly as she watched him lay in her lap, speaking in short breaths, knowing the pain that he felt was taking a toll on him. Frowning as she watched him, Maine's eyes traced over his battered body, the spot of blood on his shirt growing as she felt his life poured out of him.

"I found out," RJ said, his breaths coming in longer. "I found out that you could play the drums."

"Now is really not the best time for this type of conversation," she said. "Where is your phone?"

RJ pointed at his back pocket and chuckled. "Well, I missed all the moments when we could've had this conversation. I'm just trying to catch up." Stopping short of what he was saying, RJ did something he'd been wanting to do ever since they met. Reaching out to her, he put a hand behind her head gently and struggled to push himself up just so that he could press a kiss on her forehead. "It's going to be okay. Just look at me. No one else. Don't listen to anything. Don't look at anything else. Just me."

"RJ."

He smiled at her weakly and leaned his head on her arm as she cradled him, breathing in her scent and letting her warmth flow through him. "When did you start?"

"When I was 15," she chuckled, tears welling up in her eyes before she wiped them away bitterly with the back of her hand."I also like this fried chicken from the Diner off of Lincoln and Knott."

"I think I did ballet too." Maine shook her head as she broke his stare for a split second to look back down at his body that appeared broken suddenly. When her eyes made their way back to his face, she watched as he moved his head, his chest rising and falling heavily, struggling to breathe.

"RJ!" Maine yelled sternly through the tears, her face turning angry. "If you die now I'm going to think that's so unfair because I'm the one who got kidnapped!" Shaking him slightly, she moved him off of her lap and onto the floor, leaning above him as she bit the bullet and pulled his sopping shirt up.

The moment her eyes found the multiple gashes she felt a wave of panic and adrenaline wash over her.

Pushing her hands over the bleeding wound she crawled to her knees, putting pressure on it as her eyes went back to his face. "Come on, Faulkerson!" She demanded, letting one hand go from the wound and to his face, smacking his cheek harder than she meant.

Maine stayed quiet as she tried to focus on RJ's heartbeat, tried to flush out all the thoughts that rummaged inside her head. A minute passed. And then another, and another but nothing came. "RJ! Do something!"

Maine pulled herself closer to him as much as she could, still feeling the warmth that radiated from her partner's body despite being caked in blood just as she was. She cried silently as she crashed over his body, her shoulders slumped down in defeat as little by little an imaginary knife gnawed inside her chest, carving out a hole so raw and jagged that she couldn't find it in her to breathe.

Sirens pierced through the quiet, and then followed by footfalls skittering above her. "Over here!"

"Open your eyes, RJ. It's your turn to look at me," Maine forced back the sadness and the pain in her own body and focused on him, just him. "Come on, RJ, look at me! This is how it goes, right? We look at each other and you tell me it's going to be okay!" Throwing all caution she had when it came to her feelings towards him, Maine leaned over and cupped RJ's face in her hands, shaking his head gently before leaning down to press a soft kiss on his lips. "I need you to tell me that it's going to be okay. Please, tell me that it's going to be okay."

Groaning in frustration when she heard nothing, she struggled up to her feet and started to pace on the ground beside her, rubbing her chest to catch the breaths that came out of her lips in spurts. Her blood- stained fingers combed through her hair as she looked off into the dark, seeing the graffiti smeared with Beau's blood scream at her in delight: WELCOME TO HELL!