Take Me Home

42. Surfacing

He smiled, backing away from the crowd of people that surrounded him. He looked over to his right, seeing his friends as they all applauded, smiling and grinning as he walked down the stage, a smile on his own face. His friends slapped his back, laughing and making fun of him as they all left the building, nothing wrong in the world as they made their way out. He saw his family leaving and a strike of sadness formed inside of him but he shrugged it away, taking in the view of the night sky above him as he heard gunshots ringing around him. He froze, narrowing his eyes. Gunshots? He turned around, eyes widening as people ran toward him, holding guns in their hands, all pointed at him. Fear struck inside him and he turned to warn his friends, looking for them. They were gone, the street empty. Things began to blur and he began panicking, yelling out a warning and a cry for help. The people grew closer, aiming and preparing to shoot him. Almost on him, he watched, waiting and unable to run away. A shot rang out. But it impacted with the body that had jumped in front of him.

"Will he be okay?"

Murmurs sounded in his ears.

"Yes. He just needs to stay here a little longer. Just stay with him, until he wakes up."

"I'm not going anywhere." A pause. "Did they...Did they find the body yet? If he's..." Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"No, I'm sorry." The click of a door.

Then, the darkness returned.

He blinked, letting his eyes remain closed. Voices sounded, a stifled gasp as he heard someone begin to cry. Curious, he tried to swim up, to break the surface and awake. But he was still tired and he couldn't. Not yet.

"He wasn't mean-meant to d-d-die-" The sobs continued, echoing in his head.

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

He moved his right hand, feeling something soft beneath his touch, fingertips brushing against soft fabric. Consciousness returned slowly, dream-like, returning to him as his eyes blinked and slowly fluttered open, landing on a white ceiling. Closing his eyes, he squinted them, reopening them and looking up at the ceiling. He was still here.

He let out a small cough, taking in a deep breath and letting memories and thoughts enter his mind. He wiggled his toes, they were still there. Letting out a shaky breath, he let light stream into his eyes as he saw the room around him, suddenly aware of how cold it was. He shifted a little, the blanket on his body covering him and sheltering him from the air.

He wondered what had happened.

How he had made it here alive.

How it was even possible.

A small gasp was heard and he slowly turned his head, meeting familiar blue eyes that were clouded in pain and grief, tear stains marking her cheeks as Freya stared at him, her hands gripping the chair she was in, her eyes on his. Wanting to smile, but confused and uncomfortable in a way, he blinked, staring back.

"You're awake..." she whispered, slowly rising from her chair, brushing her hair away from her face. He said nothing as she stood, walking over to him. "You're okay."

"I'm...i'm okay." He repeated softly. He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes. "Are you?"

She smiled, gently reaching down to hug him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he closed his eyes, taking her in, the warmth from the embrace enough to calm him, his thoughts freezing as he lifted his arms to embrace her.

The pain shot through him, bringing everything back to him as his right arm moved. Nothing happened on his left side.

Freya heard his gasp of pain and she shot back up, staring down at him in desperation and concern as her eyes flickered over to his...arm.

He closed his eyes. "Am I okay?"

"Yes. You're fine, I promi-" She stopped, then continued. "You are okay. You have some injuries but you'll be okay."

He let out a soft sigh. His mind held a strong question, but fear rose inside him as he feared what the answer would be. But, he asked it anyways.

"And...Roger...?"

The silence from Freya was all it took to answer him.