Operation Phoenix

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"I fell asleep outside," He croaked, staring down at his hands. They were covered in blood, soaked in it, the red seeping into every crevice and crack in his skin. "M-me and Rapunzel... we-we didn't get much sleep the night before so when I climbed into that tree I was out." His breath hitched a bit as he remembered their argument, the way he stormed outside and crashed when he got somewhere comfortable to think. "I heard the gunshot and woke up. When I ran back to the house, the car was driving away."

"And then what happened?" Belle coaxed, though Jack barely heard her voice over the swimming in his head. He couldn't even look at her. His eyes unfocused, his body trembling, his breathing coming out in hiccups. The brunette placed a gentle hand on his knee as she knelt before him, the chaos of the medic room melting away as she chose to pay attention only to Jack.

"When I went inside she was..." he choked, his breath nearly coming out in pants. Remembering it was like reliving it. Every second, every minute of that entire experience was so vivid, it wasn't even a memory anymore. "She was on the ground, there was blood ev..." he gulped, "Everywhere."

"Were the others in that car?" Belle continued, gripping her patients leg with worry. The Runners were split up, and whenever they were split up, something bad happens. She didn't let it show, but she was terrified. Whatever happened to them, it couldn't have been good.

"I don't know..." Jack whispered painfully, finally making eye contact with her. There was a short silence between them, their eyes drilling into one another's. Worry radiated off of them, pluming into the air like a thick fog.

The endless murmurs and hurried behavior ceased for a mere second in response to the doors busting open. They were all medics, but barely even nurses compared to Rapunzel's skills. The blonde could fix a wound with nothing but a cactus needle and a sock.

The nurses bent a small bow to the woman who'd shoved the entrance open so abruptly, her cape billowing behind her as her gloved hands came down to hold each other just above her heart. Her heels clicked rhythmically as she dashed into the room, no longer floating as she had been the last time the four runners had seen her. "Jack, oh Jack!" She bellowed, stopping in her tracks to look at Merida, who lay sickly and pale on the bed, nurses surrounding her. They snipped, sewed and dug at the bullet hole in Merida's chest, until everything was stained red. The Queen's fingers flew up over her lips as she audibly gasped, her eyes flooding with tears.

Jack made no movement; even when Elsa looked back at him, he stayed still.

She dove to his feet, just as he should've been doing to her (as she was the leader, his queen), and spoke ever so gently as Belle stepped away, "Jack, dear, where..." she gulped, "where are the others?" She'd received news that he'd arrived home nearly minutes ago, hearing only that something horrible had happened. The messenger barely got through his sentence before Elsa had stood, her chair falling backwards as she rushed clumsily out of the door. She hadn't known what went down, but the others were missing—which scared her more than anything. Her babies... they were hurting.

She knew that this was the price to pay to be a runner, but she'd set rules. They went through extensive training, reading the books, knowing the strategies. They knew about combat, about negotiation, about quick thinking. They knew the Runner's Golden Rule ('cause no harm, lest a cause is hurting you.'), nearly every situation was anticipated. Moreover, District's United had rules set in place that allowed the Runners to be safe. Their runs were hard, of course, but the events that continued to occur so frequently were beginning to smell of something sinister.

Jack looked up, their eyes meeting. "I don't. Know." He repeated, not cruelly.

From behind Elsa, Belle inquired softly, "Is there anything you do know?" The woman didn't have her clipboard, or her glasses, she was doing her best to attempt to look normal—to make her patient more comfortable to talk to, but it seemed that her efforts were useless, because he was still just as shaken, and who wouldn't be?