the night of june 2nd // sanders sides ✔

41 : remy's reappearance

(A/N: Trying not to give too much away but... rereading wouldn't hurt.)

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******SERIOUS TW*****
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Declan paired with Joan to search for the man in black. Dirt and twigs crunched as they frantically scanned for Remy.

Joan came to a stop. "De, you said Remy picked up the scent of weed off that guy?"

"Yes. Why? Can you smell it?"

"Vaguely... I don't know which direction it's coming from, though." They clutched their gun harder. "Come and get us, you sloppy bitch!" they yelled.

"What the hell are you doing?" Declan scolded him.

"Attracting attention. If Remy is close enough, he can hear, and if the guy who kidnapped him hears, he might come."

"Or he could flee. Take the back. We'll swap every so often."

They walked with their backs facing each other's, Declan looking for someone hidden in the trees along with the ground, his gun at the ready.

He heard a rustle that didn't come from either him or Joan.

Movement from a quick figure.

Declan shot at it twice, both bullets landing in a tree before realizing it was just a rabbit.

"Thank God you missed," Joan muttered.

Remy could be dead already.

Declan sucked in a breath and his eyes fluttered shut as his mind went to Virgil. The thought of him eased his mind in the strangest way. The bubbling feeling was so familiar, yet also the complete opposite, at the same time.

"Dude, I support you, but stop being so fucking gay right now," Joan whispered. "I can tell you're thinking about your boyfriend."

"Shut up," he shot back.

Then many scrambling footsteps sounded from somewhere else in the forest and Declan and Joan watched their crew chase a man at the front, the scent they were looking for wafting in that direction.

"Seymour! We've got him! Find Foster!" one called.

"On it!" Declan shouted back and they began their new assignment.

Over time, the two subconsciously split up, but it was fine because they all planned an area to meet later on and all had walkie talkies attached to their belts.

After an hour, he believed he'd never find Remy.

The others couldn't find him either.

He trudged through the stupid, endless trees, losing hope every second.

This is it.

He's dead.

Reaching for his walkie talkie, there was a sudden sharp grip around his ankle and he whipped out his gun in a millisecond, pulling the trigger as a reflex.

"Holy shit, dude!" Remy yelled.

"Rem?" A weight lifted off Declan's shoulders.

"Yeah, but you should be glad I dodged that shi- holy-" He winced and hissed in pain.

Declan kneeled on the ground next to Remy and flipped him onto his back.

His stomach was bleeding out, getting worse by the second. The detective had been shot in the stomach and left to die, and the sight made Declan's heart drop deep into his stomach.