Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 16

Wake up, Ali's voice said, almost like a spirit in the wind, their voice shifting in the wind as wispy words slipped in the currents. But there was no wind, nor did he see Ali, or anything in front of him.

There was only black.

Wake up.

There was no resentment in his voice, no hatred or apathy. It was how he remembered Ali's voice to be, how he envisioned the young boy to become.

Bakar could feel his fingers, his wrist, which he tried to move. His eyelids would barely budge, only the muscles around its edges twitched, indicating that he was indeed alive.

Wake up.

His vision caught the beginnings of light, though a blur of grey and black. He caught vague hints of movement, like loose threads of hair, the bobbing of a head. The breaths he took were shallow, the cold air scratching his dry throat. He felt no pain, only numbness and exhaustion, whether from the battle or anesthetic, he couldn't tell.

He's fought many battles, many of which life-threatening. Now, he was fighting for his own life, fighting to return to the land of the living, to breathe warm air and to see the people he loved. The darkness around him began to brighten, blurring to gray.

WAKE UP.

Bakar's eyes snapped open as if woken by a jolt of lightning, travelling up his spine and brain to awaken his senses. His body refused to move, but he could see, his eyes aching from the sudden registration of light, throat itching from the large gulp of oxygen.

His eyes squeezed shut, his teeth forming a clench, regaining his sensitivity and sight. A body loomed over him, their hair loose and figure slender, holding a syringe in hand.

"Easy, General," said the Techno medic. Bakar felt a gloved hand slide his right sleeve up, then the cool touch of an alcohol swab. The skin turned numb, which he could also feel the needle penetrating his skin.

Bakar breathed through dry, chapped lips, his eyes fully captivating the ceiling of MATA's infirmary.

"What happened?" he rasped, feeling the syringe leave his arm.

What did he last remember?

His heart chilled when he remembered Ali's broken form.

"Just a few hours ago, Agent Bobby managed to escape TAPOPS's custody," the medic explained, removing his gloves. "Your wounds were severe, but fortunately, not life-threatening. You're confined to bed rest for week, at the very least."

Bakar's head swam, and it wasn't from medicine. "Is Ali—"

"The boy is currently relocated in our high-level confinement center."

Bakar's heart nearly stopped. That was the highest level of security they possessed, and it hadn't been used until now. They'd opened it, just for Ali, the for boy who'd helped save hundreds of lives in the past.

Ali is a criminal.

"I will take my leave now, General."

The medic took his card from his pocket in a fluid motion and scanned it, the metal doors sliding open with a satisfying hiss. As the doors slid shut, Bakar was abandoned in the empty infirmary, with only the faint pings of his monitor to accompany him, and the presence of his own shadow by his side.

Bakar stared up to the ceiling, his expression painfully forced to neutral as his body has yet to recover, but the emotions he was receiving were anything but. All this time, all those moments they spent together were nothing more than memories, fragments of the past.