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recontinue

A/N: hi guys, missed you!
i came out with a new fic! check it out! (it's called finders keepers)

love y'all so much. thank you for sticking around. enjoy! xo

We are ready. Avi can't hide us forever. We can't hide us forever. Mitch and I have finally seemed to reach our equilibrium. While no day will ever be the picture-perfect day, we are as ready as much as we can possibly be. Our wounds have healed, we've prepared mentally. Mitch has come to terms with the fact that we won't let each other down. With the police on our tail, the faster we take out Michael the better. If we stay any longer we will be caught, and it's a wonder how we haven't been already.

The time ticks away on our arms like the turning of the Earth. It never ceases, constant in its steady movement. It goes unnoticed until focus is drawn to it-- and then it hits. It's a reminder that even without that focus it still goes. The Earth still goes. If we allow time to run out we too will go, but not in the same fashion. I reminisce when it was my only focus, and the idea causes my mind to wonder where my focus could have been. I wish it had been more on mom. More on life.

Except, as of now, I don't mind as much that most of my life was a constant waste. It comes off as a morbid thought, however there's reason to it. Had I not decided to act on my life being miserable, there would have never been Mitch. There would have never been that sudden beam of light bursting through every object of matter it could reach, every orifice it could touch, occupying the space of my heart until nothing was left hidden by the strange darkness that tends to swallow people whole. For that, I don't mind as much.

Mitch helps me pack what little things we have into a small duffel bag, most of which being ammo for the guns provided by Avi. He's in a focused mood, short with words and heavy in thought. I can tell by his body language that he isn't afraid, but he's in a mindset I can't intrude on. I'm more than ready to do what we have to do, but it's a harder journey for Mitch to take. Regardless of all that he's done, Michael is still his father. And at the same time, he can't risk his own mother either. He breathes out a heavy sigh, and I tentatively reach over to place my palm on his shoulder.

His lips turn up ever so slightly at the edges, and it's more than enough.

Avi tosses the duffel into the trunk of his car, then approaches us with a capsule in his hand. Mitch and I exchange knowing glances, and I step forward first. My wrist presses against the scanner and I watch as my arm winds down to ten hours. Mitch does the same. He steps away with a hidden look of reluctance, but I share his concern. We will either take Michael Grassi down or die trying. What matter is that if we do, he can't take from us more than he already has. I take an empty capsule for myself and slip it into my back pocket.

Avi slips his capsule intol in his pocket, then climbs into the driver's seat as Mitch and I crawl into the back. The engine fires up and I watch as the barren, desolate city disappears behind me. I clutch my gun in my right hand, my left holding onto Mitch's palm. His eyes are trained on the terrain passing in a blur before us, and even though we have a long fight ahead, I couldn't admire his bravery more.

Time passes by in a solemn manner, and I want to call the calmness between Mitch and I eerie but that's far from the truth. It's not overly-confident, it's not sure of the outcome we want. It's practiced preparation, acceptance of the fact that we are going to give it our all.

By the time we're in Houston, I'm reminiscing again. This is where it all started, and it's terribly cliche but somehow right that it's where things are going to end. Avi pulls up nearby the house, and I instruct him to stay a few yards down the street in case we need a way out or if we win. Which, I have to remember, we will. He has a radio, I have my own.