Blossomed in Love (ManXboy)

9-1-1 stuff.

Marco

"Fire department and EMT's!" Three guys burst into the room from the broken window. I'm not even sure what to feel, amazed? About the brilliant acrobatic display on the 9th floor of the building, shocked? On how they knew that help was needed in here. The huge two of the three in the split second of distraction have Harry captured and held down on the floor as the third guy kicks the gun away from him. The third guy then proceeds to open the door from the inside to reveal more EMT's with the stretcher and other things. The police department.

The tears wouldn't stop. Relief, I'm scared but relieved that help has arrived.

"Baby the EMT's are here, and you'll be fine." I mumble against the side of Dee's face while pressing kisses on his pale skin.

He has lost too much blood.

"Hi, I'm Stock." The EMT guy addresses me as the PD take pictures of Harry's arsenal of weapons and he's being led away. It's too much going on as a small crowd of the workers gather around to see their boss on the floor, shot right under their noses. "May I?" My head almost pops off it's socket as I nod erratically to the guy to examine Damon.

"Pulse is thready, barely there. He has lost a lot of blood, BP is 88/59mmHg. We need to transport him now." He has barely finished talking when the lady standing next to him all the while calls out the one phrase that has my heart palpitating, breathing erratic, hands clenching, brain stopping, and tears flowing. "Stock we lost him."

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"So mommy, daddy is not gonna come back to us?" Curious brown eyes search his mother's, her pretty face already marred with the amount of tears she'd shed that day after receiving the news of her husband's death in an otherwise gruesome accident.

Pure unrivaled sadness written all over her face as the reality continues to her from all areas. "Yes sweetie, he's not coming back. But he's up there..." She points towards the colorful evening sky glazed with the orange streak of the retreating sun and darkening blue of the sky. "....watching over us like Mufasa watched over Simba. And then one day we're all going to meet again." Her hand tightens around her eight year old son's torso, holding onto him like a trap holds onto it's captured prey, like an anchor to keep her grounded.

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The world crashes down on me, this feeling is all too familiar but never at this magnitude, never at this frequency.

"Starting compressions." I'm lost as they try to revive my husband. His heart stopped. I find it hard to breath, my world just static as people yell out instructions and say things and do things but I can't focus on any of it.

It's unnerving.

Damon won't leave me right? He promised he would never leave me, so he'll keep his promise right? He wouldn't leave me like my dad, right?

"Charge to 200!" Open your eyes baby, please open your eyes.

"Holy shit buddy." I hear Trip's voice and my brain clearly processes it, but I can't bear to look away from my Damon. He's  not smiling at me, he's not smirking, his gorgeous green eyes are not opened to look at me like I'm the best thing in the world, like I'm the only one person that matters. I feel the presence around me, see them, feel their concern but I'm lost in my own head, mind, heart. "Maybe we should step outside and give them space to work Marco."

Snatching my hand from the figure trying to pull me out of the room, I punch him square in the face. The next person that approaches me I sucker in the gut, a kick to the groin for the next recipient, a heavy slap to the face for the next person, as they come I hit, as they approach I fight.

I'm not leaving my baby.

"Marco!" The loud voice booms and that's when I manage to get a grip on myself, turning to see Trip and numerous firemen gripping and cupping different parts of their body. "Hey hey come here, see they got him back." Dash pulls me into his arms. "He's strong and he'll be back soon to annoy the daylights out of you, take it easy and breathe alright?" I try to take a deep breath but my chest feels constricted like the air is filled with pricks and thorns and with each breath their sharp ends are there to stab me.

Easier said than done.

"I'll ride with them to St Angeline, take care of him Dash." A knowing look is shared between the two of them but I can't be bothered to know or ask what it means.

It's just me and Dash in the conference room. How long was he in pain till I got here? Why does my chest ache this much?

"How did you know?" I settle on just one of the questions bubbling in my head, directed to my brother.

"It was all Emma at the front desk, she realized that Day had been in a meeting for a long while and his next appointment had arrived. She also said you came in panicked so she went to the IT guy to pull up the security footage for the conference room and that's when they saw what was going on, so they called 9-1-1. Then she called me." He explains, his eyes never wavering from me even though I can't stop staring at my hand stained with dried blood. My husband's dried blood.

"I uhm I need to call Olivia and Kelly to tell them that...." One of my students just shot their son. "I uh also need to call the college to... to... explain what I uh..... what h-he... I didn't mean..... oh god Dashiel." I pull on the collar on my neck, the only thing on me that still shows who I belong to. Weirdly enough, it brings me a sense of comfort.

"Shh I know Marco, I know." I hit my brother's chest a couple of times repeatedly as he tries to pull me to him, before eventually succumbing and burying my face in his purple dress shirt. "I'll take care of all that, let's just get you cleaned up and off to see your man eh." Dried blood still on my hands and body, my face probably blotched and puffy from my unending flow of tears.

"No uh.... hospital f-first p-please." Without waiting for an answer, I turn around and leave the conference room.

Amidst the sad stares, pitiful looks, lingering silence, and all round tense atmosphere, I make my way out of Richardson Corp.