#dark chapter

You wake up to the sound of music and laughter spilling through the open door.  You curl deeper into the blankets, enjoying the empty bed as you mentally prepare for the day. Bridget had asked Melissa last night for the full “Schemmenti Philly Tour,” which included the usual tourist spots as well as some of the redhead’s favorite places. Even after years of living in Philly, you had never truly explored the surrounding areas. You know that Melissa is going to give one of the best tours, but there is a prickling in your spine that you are going to be overwhelmed by all the people. You think about texting Ouida, hands already hovering over contact, but you don’t have the time before Bridget flops on the bed next to you. She wraps an arm around you before bopping your nose.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I really missed you,” you smile as she brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I am sorry…” “Nope, no apologies,” Bridget interrupts. “I know it was Kylee keeping us separated, you are not going to apologize for anything that bitch did, all that matters is we are here together now.”

You let yourself believe the words for a moment, pushing away the nagging thoughts in your brain as Bridget begins to play with your hair. You attempt to change the subject away from your own turmoil thoughts.“The tour of Philly…are you thinking of moving here?”

Bridget’s smile widens, “I thought I could keep it a secret a little longer, but you still have that sister sense, always able to know my every move before I do it; this is why I could never surprise you.”

You laugh at memories of failed surprises coming back in small flashes, “This time, I am purely projecting. I want you close…plus you seem to like Melissa.”

“Correction- I love Melissa,” the blonde clarifies, and a piece of you melts. 

“That’s cause I am fuckin amazing,” Melissa says, walking in carrying three plates of food. “Don’t think I missed how my sous chef suddenly disappeared.” 

Bridget laughs, sitting up in bed, “I had to check on my sister; next time I will be there for the full process.”

Melissa’s face softens as she looks at you, “Everything okay, mi amore?”

You nod, taking the plate from her as she leans down to kiss your forehead, “Bridget was telling me about her plan to move to Philly.”

This starts an animated discussion over where Bridget should start looking, jobs that Melissa can help her get, and you listen with a smile on your face. You imagine what it would be like for this world to unfold in front of you. Melissa and Bridget existing in the same orbit, the family you always dreamed about, you want to believe in it so bad, yet there was something on the edges of your mind reminding you that it will never happen, that it is not the life that you deserve. You know that you need to text Ouida…at some point, but not now.

-~-

Melissa drives all over the city of Philly, leaving no place unexplored when it comes to her tour. At first, it is smaller things- where she went to high school, her Nonna’s house, her childhood home- but then it is the usual tourist stops. It starts with the Love sign.

Melissa walks through the crowd holding your hand with a childish grin on her face. The letters are stacked on top of a large metal box with a line of people waiting for a picture. You fall in line, and the first hit of anxiety starts to crawl up your spine. You push it aside, smiling for your photo with Bridget. Then Melissa lifts you in her arms bridal style, and you squeal, curling your arms around her. She beams at you, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Bridget begs for a picture of all three of you, and Melissa finally relents, letting a stranger take her phone to snap it. When Bridget and Melissa sling their arms across your shoulder, sandwiching you between them, you feel like maybe, for once, everything is sliding into place. 

When the photoshoot is done, Melissa’s next stop is the Mütter Museum. Your sister thrives off the strange and mysterious wandering through the exhibits like a child in a candy store. Melissa holds a hand securely around your waist as you both walk behind Bridget. The blonde spews random facts every couple of minutes, and you know she is in absolute heaven. Towards the end of the museum, Melissa leans over whispering.

“Remind me never to piss your sister off, she knows exactly how-when-and where to bury my body.”

“Damn straight I do,” Bridget quips.

 You can't help but let out a loud laugh, which causes multiple people to turn and stare at you. Before embarrassment can set in, Melissa ushers the group outside. When you step outside, the feeling passes when the sun washes across your face, and with the breeze picking up, you curl close to her. Not even a second passes before Melissa pulls off her jacket, wrapping it around you. 

She places a gentle kiss on your forehead before she asks, “How are you doing, my love?”

You hesitate for a moment, “I'm okay…where to next?”

“I'll race you up the Rocky steps,” Bridget grins, her competitive side coming out.

You accept her challenge, and the next thing you know, Melissa is filming you running the Rocky steps next to Bridget. Your heart is pounding and your ribs hurt by the time you reach the top. You beat Bridget, but only by a couple of steps, and she falls into your arms, panting hard. 

“I think I could get used to this,” she says finally.

“Me kicking your ass?” You laugh when you catch your breath.

“No,” Bridget mentions, her voice softening, “having my sister back.”

Tears well in your eyes as you crush her into a hug, “I love you, sis.”

Bridget holds you close, murmuring her mutual love when a voice cuts through the crowd. You hear your name and turn towards the sound, believing it to be Melissa; however, your eyes catch the redhead still at the bottom of the stairs waiting for your return. You go to turn the other way, but Bridget yanks your hand in the opposite direction. She practically pulls you down the stairs, and you stumble trying to keep up with her. 

“B, what is going on?” You ask as your legs throb from the punishing pace she has set. 

You know she is lying when she looks back at you, her features twisting with anxiety, “I just am really hungry, you know how I get when I am hungry.”

You go to look back, but Bridget pulls hard on your hand, “Don’t, Y/N, just come with me.”

There is a fear in her voice that raises the hair on your arm, so you fix your gaze forward at Melissa. She waits with a broad smile on her face, her hand immediately wrapping through yours when you reach her. Bridget guides everyone back to the car, the look of fear never leaving her eyes. While she isn’t paying attention, you turn back to look at the Rocky steps. At the bottom of the steps, Kylee smirks before waving at you, and your whole mind goes utterly blank. 

~-~

It starts in the base of your throat-a rock that makes it impossible to swallow-and then impossible to breathe around. You try and push it down further away as you step into the water, sure that it will wash away this fear, but you feel the monsters crawling up. Their nails rake against your skin, and your body shivers under the hot water. You tell yourself this can't be happening-not now- everything is going so well- the monsters can't be back. Yet you know it is a lie as your vision clouds and your mind goes dark. All that you can focus on is Kylee’s devilish grin staring into you, like she knows she still owns you, and she does, even if you won’t admit it. Your movements aren't your own then, you become controlled by someone else, that robot buried deep inside of you that takes control when you can’t. It is supposed to keep you safe, and has before, but this time is different… it wants to devour. It wants to release everything that you have worked hard to suppress. It wants to cut away the pieces you have mended until the whole world runs red- and this time you might let it.

“Something isn't right,” Melissa says as she looks up towards the bedroom. You have only been gone about ten minutes, but there is something in her gut that tells her she needs to get to you now.“I gotta go check on her.”

She stands from the table where Bridget is sitting and is down the hall in an instant. There is a tingle along her neck that grows as she enters the room. Melissa knocks sharply at the bathroom door before trying the handle- it’s locked- something that you have never done inside her house. You had told Melissa that you didn’t like locked doors, even if you were the ones to lock them, you needed an escape plan. There is no stopping the fear rolling through her now as she fumbles through her drawers. They come flying from her dresser until she finds the spare key. Her heart is pounding in her ears as she misses the lock once, twice, finally hitting home the third time. The door springs open, and Melissa’s heart drops. 

She pulls open the glass door, not caring that her clothes soak within an instant. She uncurls your fists, throwing the object aside as she wraps you in her arms.

“Baby, look at me,” Melissa pleads. “It’s Mel, baby, please. I'm right here.”

Your eyes are open but unfocused, a gray shadow consuming them. You don't register Melissa’s words, only staring blankly ahead. The older woman’s heart drops as she continues to look at you, present but so far away all at once. 

“Y/N, come on. Come back,” Melissa chokes out her tears, mixing with the water falling around her.

Bridget calls from the other room, “Y’all decent?”

“B! Come help!” Melissa screams frantically. “Something is wrong.” 

“Shit, she fucking looked back. I knew she was going to,” Bridget mumbles, scurrying inside the bathroom.

“What are you talking about?”

“Kylee,” Bridget hisses, “was at the fucking Rocky steps. I thought I pulled away Y/N in time, but fuck. I should have seen the signs. She wasn’t right after we left, and I figured it was just because she was getting overstimulated by all the people. ”

Guilt rushes through Melissa as she recounts the way that you retreated back into yourself. It was why Bridget and her had opted to eat back at home; it didn’t occur to her that something else could have happened. Bridget grabs a towel from the closet, rushing to shut the water off. The blonde wraps it around you, holding your cheek in the palm of her hand. Your body is limp and stiff all at the same time.

“Y/N, I know you are in there. It’s safe. You gotta come back out. You don't need to be in there right now. It’s just Mel and me. No one else is here. They can't hurt you. Come out, sweetheart,” She repeats, her thumb tracing your cheekbone.

A couple of moments trickle by of Bridget repeating the same phrase over and over, but your eyes remain far away. Finally, she moves to her next idea, placing Melissa’s hand on your other cheek. The clouds lift slightly by the pressure of Melissa holding you. 

Bridget sighs softly, “See, Melissa’s here. She didn’t go anywhere; we both have you. You got this. I know you are in there- just a little more- come on.”

The blonde looks desperately and Melissa. It stuns the older woman from her silence, “I love you Y/N, I am not going anywhere. Come back to me, I’ll keep you safe. I promise no one can hurt you.”

It’s a violent snap back to your body like a rubber band falling back into place. Your eyes clear and immediately fill with tears. Your body crumples, and Melissa struggles to catch you as her feet slide against the wet tile. Bridget supports the redhead until she gains her footing. You are uncontrollably sobbing now as Melissa reaches under your knees and lifts you again. Bridget helps open the door for Melissa so she can carry you back into the safety of the bedroom. 

The crying has slowed, but you cling to Melissa, your hand fisting into the collar of her shirt. She lays you down against the bed, but when she goes to move, you pull her back to you. You refuse to open your eyes, only nuzzle into her.

“Baby, Bridget is going to get you some clothes to sleep in,” Melissa says, pointing to the fallen drawers. “We will get you dressed and then both of us will lie with you.”

You nod faintly, and Bridget sets to work gathering the fallen clothes. You remove your hand for only a moment, allowing Melissa to slide an oversized t-shirt onto your body. She shifts you into the middle of the bed, settling under the covers. You immediately curl yourself around her, letting her wrap a protective arm around you. Bridget moves to the other side of the bed, bookending you into a safety net. Melissa runs her fingers through your hair, kissing your temple lightly. She doesn’t release a solid breath until you fall asleep in her arms, your grip finally loosening around her collar. 

“I have never seen her like that,” Melissa whispers, her fingers still running through your hair. “I have seen nightmares before, but this… this was something entirely different.”

“I have seen it a lot growing up, but it has never been this intense before,” Bridget admits. “We uh…we didn't grow up in the safest of places. So she created one for herself. A little part of her mind that was so deep and dark that she felt no one could reach her. At first, it was safe there, but it turned bad; it was like someone took her over and made her do or say unspeakable things. A robot that does whatever is necessary to keep her alive, no matter the cost, even if it means, at times, chipping away pieces of herself. The worst part is, she won’t remember a damn thing when she wakes up.”

Your girlfriend startles at this, “What do you mean she isn’t going to remember what happens? How is that even possible?”

“Her therapist once told Y/N that it is dissociative amnesia, a way to repress the memories that her brain can physically not hold on to anymore,” Bridget explains. “It is also probably why she struggles to share stuff about Kylee. This…robot that takes over for her could have blocked out more than she realizes.”

Melissa contemplates this for a moment, and her heart breaks for you. It hurts to know that there are pieces of you that hurt so much; the only way to survive is to physically remove yourself from them. She wonders how many memories you have packed in a box and placed away, afraid of the answer, but also devastated that she may never know.  She holds you close to her, placing a kiss along your hairline. 

“I am here, mi amore, I will never let you go, I love you.”

-

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Torture 

Violences psychologique et physique importantes

Mort imminente

« Ceux qui vivent, ce sont ceux qui luttent. » Victor Hugo.

Il n'y avait rien de plus amusant, dans l'instant, pour Béatrice, que de fixer son geôlier de manière insistante. Elle ne cilla pas. Elle l’étudiait comme on démonte une machine, patiemment, pour mieux comprendre comment la faire dérailler. À force, il tourna sa tête. Puis encore. Et encore.

À côté, Akainu discutait. Calme. Précis. Il réglait avec un autre gradé les détails de son incarcération : étage, sécurité, personnel autorisé.

Elle faisait semblant de ne pas s'en soucier, mais aucune information ne lui échappa. Elle le dévisageait avec ce demi-sourire sarcastique qui, autrefois, rendait fous ses supérieurs. Quand le soldat quitta la pièce pour exécuter ses ordres, elle se tourna vers l'Amiral.

— J'ai tellement hâte de voir Sengoku débarquer après t'avoir puni avec une mise à pied. Pour avoir emprisonné sans son consentement, ni celui de Kong, ma personne.

L’homme ne daigna même pas lui jeter un coup d’œil, feuilletant un document.

— Il ne le saura jamais. J'ai eu l'aval... de d'autres personnes.

Béatrice se tendit aussitôt. Ses méninges se mirent à tourner à toute allure. Il reprit, implacable :

— Tu es seule, Lisa. Personne ne viendra t'aider.

Si seulement tu savais... ricana-t-elle intérieurement.

Mais malgré l'arrogance affichée, une inquiétude sourde s'insinua sous sa peau. Qui avait pu lui donner le pouvoir de passer outre Sengoku et Kong ?

Elle força son esprit à se raccrocher à ce qu'elle savait faire : provoquer.

— Tu es tellement loin de la vérité, Sakazuki. Tu n'es qu'un pantin. Ils t'ordonnent de faire ça alors que tu ignores tout du véritable plan. Moi, à ta place, je commencerais à me demander pourquoi.

Elle se redressa légèrement et s'appuya contre le mur, sans quitter ses yeux.

— Pourquoi auraient-ils besoin de te le demander, à toi ? Parce que tu es un pion. Un ignorant dans un complot qui te dépasse.

Elle vit la gifle arriver trop tard. Sa joue explosa sous l'impact. Son crâne heurta le mur. L'acouphène qui vrilla son tympan droit la fit chanceler.

Trop sonnée pour se relever aussitôt, elle resta à demi allongée, haletante, l'oreille sifflante. Son équilibre refusait de lui obéir. Pourtant, quand elle parvint à lever les yeux, elle les planta dans ceux d'Akainu, sans la moindre concession.

La haine lui brûlait la poitrine.

Ce connard avait osé la frapper alors qu'elle était menottée. Sans défense.

— Quel acte de bravoure, Sakazuki ! cracha-t-elle, accompagnant ses mots d'un filet de sang aux pieds du concerné.

Sa main s'abattit sur sa gorge. Il la saisit d'une poigne brutale, l'obligeant à se relever. Il la plaqua violemment contre le mur, son visage contre le béton. Son acouphène s'intensifia. Sa vue se brouilla. Elle lutta pour rester consciente. Des vertiges envahirent ses membres, une chaleur insoutenable dans le crâne.

— Ne te crois pas si importante, petite salope, grogna-t-il à son oreille. Tu n'es qu'une femme de bureau, bonne à rester derrière les hommes qui t'ordonneront quoi faire. Comme si tu pouvais espérer quitter la Marine quand tu le décides...

Un rire sans joie lui échappa, prenant le temps d’étudier sa prisonnière.

— Regarde-toi. Faible. Une poupée inutile. Tais-toi et suis les ordres qu'on t'impose. Femme.

Il la lâcha. Elle s'écrasa au sol. Elle réussit à amortir sa tête avec ses mains toujours attachées, dans un réflexe désespéré.

Il quitta la pièce sans un mot de plus.

Elle cracha au sol. Sa lèvre saignait, sa joue en feu, sa nuque palpitante de douleur.

— Pff... quel macho, ce con.

Elle reprit lentement son souffle, forçant son esprit à ne pas vaciller. Ce n'était qu'un mauvais moment. Temporaire. Et un jour, elle lui ferait regretter. Pas seulement sa naissance. Chaque jour qu'il avait passé dans ce monde.

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— Ne t'inquiète pas, femme. Ils vont bien s'occuper de toi ici, ricana Akainu, suivi par les rires de ses soldats.

Il ne prenait même plus la peine de l'appeler par son prénom. Pour lui, elle n'était plus qu'un sexe, une créature inutile, bonne à être brisée et jetée. Il partit sans un regard. Mais Béatrice ne se relâcha pas. Pas maintenant.

Surtout pas devant l'énergumène qui s'approchait d'elle, vêtu comme un pharaon, sceptre en tête de cobra à la main.

— J'ignorais qu'on organisait des concours de déguisements ici, marmonna-t-elle.

— Lisa Cassipan. Je suis Hannibal, Directeur de cette prison. J'ai longtemps été...

— Je sais qui tu es. Je te rappelle que j'ai passé vingt-quatre ans dans la Marine, le coupa-t-elle, avant de murmurer pour elle-même : enfin... j'y ai été.

— Hein ? Y'a écrit que tu as trente-deux ans...

Le manque d'information.

La plus grande faille de toute bataille. On pouvait être en sous-nombre, en sous-moyens, en sous-tout... si on possédait l'information juste et une stratégie claire, la victoire restait possible. Béatrice excellait dans l'art de repérer les failles chez ceux qui manquaient de confiance, de repères ou... de cartes en main.

Et celui-là, elle l'avait déjà cerné.

— Je suis la fille de Sengoku, lâcha-t-elle tranquillement.

Le directeur blêmit. Son sourire se crispa, grotesque.

— Quand il viendra me chercher... je te conseille de ne pas trop me faire chier. Parce que Sakazuki va tomber de très haut quand il se fera recadrer par Sengoku. Et Kong. Et Tsuru...

Elle allait continuer, mais l'homme la coupa. Ses gestes devinrent tremblants.

Deux des trois conditions pour manipuler quelqu'un : manque d'information, manque de confiance.

— Mai... mais... Akainu va devenir le prochain chef des Amiraux...

Un détail amusait toujours Béatrice : elle n'appelait jamais les Amiraux par leurs pseudonymes. Akainu. Aokiji. Kizaru. Non. Elle mettait un point d'honneur à dire leurs vrais noms. Sakazuki. Kuzan. Borsalino. C'était sa manière de rappeler qu'ils n'étaient pas au-dessus d'elle. Jamais.

— Si tu as remarqué, ta phrase est au futur. Là, on est dans le présent, Hannibal, dit-elle sèchement. Après, tu verras ça avec Sengoku. Parce qu'en acceptant d'enfermer la fille de l'amiral en chef... tu viens de plonger la tête la première.

Elle éclata de rire en le voyant vaciller.

— Ohhh... laisse-moi deviner... « nouveau directeur de cette prison », hein ?

Puis elle prit une voix niaise.

— Tu as vu qu'un des prétendants au poste de futur amiral en chef te demandait de t'occuper d'une pauvre petite bureaucrate traîtresse ? Même pas jugée, et t'as même pas étudié le dossier avant d'accepter, c'est ça ?

Grâce aux rumeurs de couloirs qui allaient bon train dans la base, elle avait rapidement cerné le directeur de la prison. La conclusion de tous était que le nouveau directeur d'Impel Down était un sombre idiot.

Ce dernier dansait d'un pied à l'autre, les quelques soldats derrière se regardaient nerveusement et se jetaient des coups d’œil inquiets entre eux. Elle vit leur chef se mordre les doigts. Il se tourna vers ses subordonnés et les congédia.

Dès qu'il n'y eut plus qu'eux deux, il se jeta sur les barreaux, surprenant presque la jeune femme. Elle resta, cependant, glaciale et inébranlable. Avec ce genre de personne, paraître inatteignable et les traiter avec une colère froide avait le don de briser même leur idéologie.

Surtout quand la personne grelottait déjà de peur devant elle.

— Qu'est-ce que je dois faire ?

Béatrice le jaugea, songeant qu'avec un peu plus de pression, il pourrait s'évanouir sur place. Mais elle garda son masque impassible.

— Hum... Tu veux sauver ta place, c'est ça ?

Il hocha vivement la tête, presque enfantin. Elle débuta une marche dans la cellule, feignant la réflexion.

— Voilà le souci : Tu ne peux ni me libérer, ni me torturer. Sinon, c'est ta tête qui tombera quand Sengoku apprendra ce qui s'est passé.

À chaque pas, elle savourait la lente dégradation mentale de son interlocuteur. Hannibal, toujours accroché aux barreaux baissa la voix :

— Allons, tu n'es pas devenue directrice pour rien, non ? Cherche une solution.

Il était, désormais, au bord des larmes.

— Sakazuki t'a dit quand il repasserait ?

— Après-demain midi, répondit Hannibal précipitamment. Il doit voir d'autres personnes demain.

Elle hocha la tête, satisfaite.

— Bien. Voilà ce qu'on va faire.

Elle s'approcha des barres de fer, sa voix basse et ferme.

— Aucun soldat ne me touche. Aucune blessure supplémentaire. Si on te questionne, tu diras que je suis intenable, que je cherche à corrompre tes hommes.

Elle sourit intérieurement. Elle venait précisément de le manipuler.

— Ça fera enrager Sakazuki, mais il ne pourra pas te tenir pour responsable. Parce que le Gouvernement Mondial veut que cette affaire reste secrète. Et au moment où je m'échapperai, crois-moi, personne ne dira quoi que ce soit. Parce qu'ils auront trop peur que ça s'ébruite.

— T-t-t'échapper ?!

— Exactement. Si Sengoku apprend que je suis ici, tu es foutu. Si je pars par moi-même, tu pourras prétendre avoir pris l'initiative pour éviter un scandale. Sakazuki se prendra un blâme, et toi... tu seras remercié pour ton bon sens.

Elle vit ses iris s'éclairer. Deuxième règle : offrir une porte de sortie flatteuse à celui qu'on manipule.

— Donc... je pourrais même être félicité ?

Une fausse bienveillance coula dans la voix de Béatrice.

— Bien sûr. Si tu gères ça proprement.

En réalité, elle ignorait comment tout cela tournerait. Mais elle savait une chose : cinq personnes, en particulier, tiraient les ficelles derrière cette affaire.

Ils conclurent un accord rapide : un pavillon noir viendrait bientôt pour elle. Lorsqu'il demanda pourquoi ce détail, elle inventa qu'il s'agissait de pirates sous couverture, pour tromper les traceurs marins. Et contre toute attente... il la crut.

Béatrice profita de son isolement pour observer son environnement. Malgré les chaînes qui entravaient ses poignets et l'ancrage solidement fixé au mur, elle savait qu'elle ne resterait pas longtemps ici. Týr viendrait.

C'était lui, le pavillon noir qu'elle attendait.

Il connaissait trop bien les tensions qui régnaient au sein de la Marine. Il savait à quel point Akainu représentait une menace. Et surtout, c'était lui qui l'attendait après l'avoir déposée pour simplement effacer un dossier. L'absence prolongée de Béatrice, combinée au départ du navire d'Akainu, allait forcément éveiller les soupçons. Sans compter qu'il possédait sa carte de vie : il saurait qu'elle était en danger.

Après avoir inspecté la pièce, elle retourna s'asseoir au fond de la cellule, là où les chaînes la maintenaient à distance des barreaux. Ses poignets, violacés par la violence du voyage et d'Akainu, la faisaient souffrir, mais le froid anesthésiait partiellement la douleur. Elle détourna la tête, refusant de s'apitoyer sur son sort.

La nuit tomba sans bruit. Puis une autre. Au matin du troisième jour, un soldat passa lui déposer un plateau minable. Une mie de pain dur, une coupe d'eau trouble et un bol de bouillon au contenu douteux.

Elle mangea vite, par instinct de survie, mais le goût infect du bouillon la fit blêmir. Elle n'eut que le temps de tourner la tête pour vomir, tâchant de ne pas souiller toute sa cellule. Son estomac, tiraillé, la punissait d'avoir voulu survivre. Et pourtant, vingt minutes plus tard, la faim revenait déjà, aussi violente que la douleur.

Exténuée, épuisée mentalement et physiquement, elle finit par sombrer contre le mur gelé. La douleur et le froid ne la quittèrent pas, mais son corps, à bout de forces, la plongea dans un sommeil lourd, presque comateux.

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Une voix grave, cruellement reconnaissable, la tira de son sommeil. Toutefois, son corps semblait ne plus vouloir lui répondre, absolument amorphe. Même les bruits étaient atténués.

— Vous lui avez bien fait avaler ce que je vous avais donné ?

Sakazuki. L'homme-magma.

— Oui, monsieur. Elle est complètement shootée, répondit un soldat. Plus aucune résistance.

Cette sensation s'atténuait petit à petit et elle pouvait réentendre à nouveau. Cependant, son corps ne répondait toujours pas. Ses paupières ne parvenaient pas à s'ouvrir. Les sons semblaient venir d'un tunnel.

À cause de cet état second, la peur commença à ramper sous sa peau.

— Parfait. Il faut qu'elle soit stable pour le transfert, ajouta-t-il d'un ton sec. Impel Down n'est qu'un lieu de passage.

Un frisson dévora sa poitrine.

Transfert ? Où ?

Elle tenta d'agripper cette pensée, mais sa tête bourdonnait trop fort pour qu'elle puisse creuser l'idée. Une seule certitude s'imposa : ils avaient prévu pire, ailleurs.

Une main brutale la saisit par les cheveux et la força à relever la tête. La douleur explosa dans sa nuque et son crâne. Elle eut un sursaut, réflexe primaire, mais ses muscles restaient engourdis, incapables de réagir vraiment.

Ses paupières se soulevèrent à moitié. Ses iris dans le flou croisèrent ceux, implacables, de Sakazuki.

Ce dernier la tenait par les cheveux dans les airs. Elle supposait, puisqu'elle ne sentait même plus ses jambes et ses bras.

— Aucun réflexe. C'est parfait.

Il la relâcha sans douceur. Son corps s'écrasa au sol, incapable d'amortir la chute. Elle sentit des craquements inquiétants parcourir son épaule et ses côtes. Une douleur sourde lui arracha un gémissement rauque. Elle remarqua qu'elle était assise, dos contre le mur, jambes légèrement écartées et ses bras entre elles, toujours menottés. Sa tête tomba en avant par manque de force et d'énergie.

Sakazuki sortit une lame. Une lame glaciale, brutale, sans grâce ni hésitation.

— Pathétique. J'ai entendu ce que tu as fait ici. Retourner mes hommes contre moi... Toujours aussi puérile, Béatrice.

Un hoquet de stupéfaction et de peur lui échappa.

Il venait de l'appeler « Béatrice ».

Pas Lisa.

Un frisson glacial parcourut sa colonne vertébrale, et l'espace d'un instant, elle eut l'impression que son cœur s'était arrêté. Ce qu'elle craignait le plus se réalisait. Ce qu'elle imaginait encore caché venait de sortir de l'ombre.

— Ils ne m'ont pas tout dit, reprit-il avec un sourire mauvais. Comme ta véritable identité. Tu n'as jamais été cette petite orpheline, recueillie par Sengoku il y a vingt-quatre ans.

Il s'accroupit devant elle. Béatrice aurait voulu lui briser la mâchoire. Et surtout, cogner ces Cinq Doyens qui, elle en était certaine, avaient omis le plus important, mais donné juste assez pour qu'Akainu se déchaîne un peu.

— Je sais aussi que tu allais t'enfuir pour rejoindre ta famille. Des délinquants. Des pourritures. Et tu croyais pouvoir réussir, avec toutes les informations que tu possèdes ?

Un rire gras et mauvais s'échappa de sa gorge. Il attrapa ses cheveux bruns teintés, forçant son regard à croiser le sien. Son expression était déformée par la haine.

— Tu pensais réellement que les Cinq Doyens allaient te laisser partir ? Tu es trop dangereuse. Trop instable. Trop incontrôlable. Je ne peux pas te tuer... sinon tu n'aurais pas eu le temps de comprendre. Mais je vais m'assurer que tu ne représentes plus jamais un danger.

La lumière de la cellule se refléta sur la lame qu'il leva. C'est à cet instant qu'elle réalisa qu'ils étaient seuls. Aucun soldat n'avait assisté à cet échange. Les Doyens ne lui avaient pas révélé son statut de Reine Originelle. Mais ils avaient assez armé la main d'Akainu pour le pousser à cette folie. Son attention dévia un instant vers le bas, et l'idée ignoble qu'il puisse la violer la traversa fugacement, lui arrachant un haut-le-cœur qu'elle ravala. Mais au lieu de ça, elle le vit lever sa lame et l'abattre sans préavis.

La douleur fut immédiate. Foudroyante. Son poignet droit céda dans un craquement immonde, la lame sectionnant chair et os. Un cri étranglé, déchirant, s'échappa de sa gorge, mais sa voix, coincée, n'était plus qu'un râle aigu et brisé. Elle faillit s'évanouir, mais l'adrénaline la maintint désespérément consciente, amplifiant sa souffrance au lieu de l'atténuer.

— Plus besoin d'écrire, souffla Sakazuki, presque moqueur.

Il trancha net. Sa main chuta lourdement sur le sol, grotesque, baignant dans une flaque écarlate. Elle la vit tomber, incapable de détourner les yeux. La panique la submergea, poussant son corps à être secoué de spasmes de la tête aux pieds. Un flot de gémissements incontrôlables et de sanglots la traversa, tandis que le sang giclait en éclaboussant sa peau. Toute sa volonté lui hurlait de détourner la tête, mais elle n'y parvenait pas. Jamais de sa vie elle n'avait connu une telle terreur, une telle souffrance. Tout son être hurlait, ses organes semblaient en feu, sa tête sur le point d'éclater.

— Voilà ce qu'il en coûte de se moquer de la Justice. Regarde ce que tu m'as forcé à faire.

Un rictus mauvais déforma son visage.

— J'aurais pu te garder. Mais tu parles trop. Tu bouges trop. Une femme doit savoir rester à sa place.

Il passa la lame sous son menton, forçant son visage à se relever. Elle ne sentit même pas la coupure fine qu'il traça sous sa gorge : la douleur de son poignet éclipsait tout le reste. Les larmes striaient ses joues, se mêlant au sang qui gouttait dans la flaque entre ses jambes.

Ce qui la fit vaciller mentalement, ce ne fut pas tant la douleur que cette certitude effroyable : il allait recommencer. Couper l'autre main. Et il prenait son temps, savourant sa souffrance.

Elle n'entendait presque plus ses paroles, ses oreilles résonnaient de bourdonnements assourdissants. Son corps refusait de répondre. La douleur s'était répandue partout, ne laissant plus qu'un champ de ruines nerveuses. Sa respiration s'accélérait, saccadée, oppressante, donnant l'impression qu'elle allait s'étouffer sur place.

— J'aurais aimé faire de toi un exemple public. Ils ont refusé. C'est dommage... ça aurait calmé toutes ces femmes qui s'imaginent irremplaçables et utiles.

Enfin, il leva à nouveau sa lame et, sans hésitation, l'abattit sur son poignet gauche. Elle vit la scène, impuissante. La lame sectionnant à nouveau chair, os, nerfs, et sa main tomber au sol comme l'autre. Dans une mare de sang grossissante. Son cri fut encore plus déchirant que le premier. Les larmes redoublèrent, ses pleurs se mêlèrent à ses cris, incontrôlables. Sa tête tomba en avant, ses cheveux trempés la dissimulant à moitié, mais rien ne cachait l'horreur.

Quand sa lame toucha enfin le sol, elle faillit sombrer. Mais la peur, tenace, la garda éveillée. Elle releva légèrement la tête, incapable de supporter cette vision d'horreur. Ses yeux embués ne cessaient de pleurer, tandis qu'elle sentait son sang s'échapper à grande vitesse.

Tout son corps frissonnait. De froid. De peur. De douleur. Peut-être tout cela à la fois. La sensation glaciale qui la gagnait lui murmurait que son heure approchait. Son ventre, secoué de spasmes, ne supporta plus l'agonie.

D'un dernier réflexe, elle tourna la tête pour vomir, sa bile se mêlant au sang.

— Tu me dégoûtes, siffla-t-il en se relevant. Le temps passe si vite quand on s'amuse... J'ai d'autres choses à faire. Mais je reviendrai. Et la prochaine fois, je t'arracherai la capacité de parler, Béatrice.

Il s'attarda une dernière seconde sur son état pitoyable. Sa pâleur inquiétante trahissait l'hémorragie massive. Un instant, il hésita. Son hésitation n'avait rien d'humain : sa vengeance avait simplement été trop loin. Et s'il la laissait crever, il devrait rendre des comptes à ceux qui attendaient son transfert.

— Appelez un médecin. Juste assez pour qu'elle survive.

Et il quitta la pièce, la laissant seule.

Démembrée. Vidée de son sang. Écrasée sous le froid et la douleur. Seuls ses gémissements, mêlés à des reniflements étouffés, brisaient le silence, alors que le liquide pourpre s'étendait peu à peu à travers les barreaux. Dans un dernier sursaut de rage, de peur et de douleur, un hurlement déchirant jaillit de sa gorge. Il fit vibrer les murs de la prison.

Son corps devint glacé, amorphe. Psychologiquement, elle sut qu’elle sombrait aussi. Ses paupières se fermèrent. La conscience se fragmenta. Elle ne sentit même pas sa joue heurter le sol, ni la chaleur poisseuse du liquide sous sa peau. Juste le froid. Et le silence.

Son cœur battait vite, trop vite.

C’était la dernière chose qu’elle perçut avant que le néant ne la prenne.

Elle attendit, en silence, de voir à quoi ressemblait l’au-delà.

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Le silence pesant de la prison fut déchiré par le fracas d'une explosion. Les murs s’écroulèrent sous le choc, et un nuage de fumée s'engouffra dans les couloirs. Les alarmes hurlèrent aussitôt, stridentes.

Týr pénétra dans la prison comme un ouragan. Sa cape sombre voletait derrière lui, et dans ses yeux brûlait une rage froide. Ce n'était plus le pirate charmeur et ironique qu'on connaissait, mais un seigneur des batailles, prêt à tout raser. Joshua, l'air sombre, refermait la marche, suivi du corps médical de l’équipage.

Ils ne perdirent pas une seconde. Týr connaissait déjà le chemin. Grâce à la carte de vie de Béatrice et aux indications du médecin, il l'avait localisée avec précision. Et ce qu'il avait ressenti en approchant... cette flamme vacillante, ce fil de vie sur le point de céder... Il avait compris. Trop tard.

Ils ouvrirent la cellule d'un coup de sabre, sans clé, sans permission.

Et là, le spectacle les frappa de plein fouet.

Béatrice gisait au sol, baignant dans une mare rouge qui s'étendait jusqu'aux barreaux. Son corps, pâle et brisé, grelottait faiblement, secoué de spasmes nerveux incontrôlés. Ses bras amputés pendaient sans force. Autour d'elle, une odeur acide de bile et de rouille emplissait l'air.

Týr accusa le coup, son cœur se serrant si fort qu'il peina à respirer. Son corps se figea, la voix blanche :

— Putain...

Joshua, plus pragmatique, s'agenouilla aussitôt à ses côtés, ouvrant sa trousse médicale dans un cliquetis pressé.

— On la stabilise d'abord. On pleurera après, trancha-t-il d'un ton sans appel.

Il commença par compresser les moignons pour stopper l'hémorragie, ordonnant aux soigneurs de préparer des transfusions d'urgence sur le navire. Des fioles de sang compatible furent brisées sur place et injectées directement dans les veines de Béatrice.

Týr prit Béatrice dans ses bras, sans tenir compte du sang qui maculait ses vêtements. Il appuya son front contre le sien, murmurant, presque pour lui-même :

— Tiens bon, Béa'... Tiens bon. Je suis là maintenant.

Mais elle ne réagit pas. Son corps était brûlant et glacé à la fois. Ses lèvres, d'un bleu inquiétant, tremblaient faiblement. Sa poitrine se soulevait par à-coups, irrégulièrement.

Joshua leva les yeux vers Týr, grave.

— Si on ne la sort pas d'ici dans les dix prochaines minutes, elle y restera.

Týr hocha la tête et, sans un mot, la souleva dans ses bras. Elle était si légère... comme si la vie lui échappait déjà. Il serra la mâchoire. Hors de question.

Ils prirent la fuite à travers les couloirs en feu. Les soldats d'Impel Down, désorganisés, n'osaient pas tirer. Le pavillon noir flottait dans l'esprit de tous : c'étaient les personnes qui devaient venir chercher la femme.

— Les gars de l'infirmerie sont prêts, lança Thanatos en surgissant au détour d'un couloir, les yeux sombres fixés sur Béatrice.

— Bien, on y va. Josh ?

Le médecin serra les dents avant de pivoter vers Týr, résolu.

— Ouais, hors de question que je reste une minute de plus après ça.

Ils prirent la direction du port. Les soldats qu'ils croisèrent détournèrent le regard, effrayés.

— On devra commencer l'opération dès qu'on sera à bord. On pose les culots sanguins dès maintenant, expliqua Joshua à l'attention de Thanatos.

Týr jeta un regard inquiet vers Béatrice. Elle était mortellement silencieuse, plus pâle que jamais. Il percevait ses à-coups respiratoires, ce bruit crépitant dans sa gorge, ce souffle faible et saccadé.

Ils avaient compris ce qui s'était passé dès le moment où elle n'était pas revenue au port privé. La confirmation était venue lorsqu'ils avaient identifié le navire d'Akainu. Ils avaient même intercepté une communication. Sakazuki se vantait auprès des autres amiraux d'avoir piégé la traîtresse et de lui réserver un traitement digne de ce nom. Il avait ri des réactions de Fujitora et d'Aokiji, visiblement moins enthousiastes.

Týr avait alerté la famille Shine, qui, évidemment, s'était préparée à déclarer la guerre. Mais Thoma les avait calmés, leur rappelant qu'ils devaient rester impassibles. L'ordre devait tenir, surtout après la réunion stratégique cruciale qui avait eu lieu la veille, sans la présence de leur héritière. Ils n'avaient pas le droit de réagir à chaud.

À bord, Joshua allongea Béatrice et, avec Reseph, médecin de bord, posa les premières perfusions. Un culot sanguin fut greffé, puis une perfusion réhydratante. Reseph examina les moignons avec soin. Malgré la gravité des blessures, il conclut que les membres pouvaient encore être rattachés.

— Préviens la famille Shine. On va avoir besoin d'une salle d'opération et de renforts, lança Reseph sans détour.

Týr, à la barre, menait son navire à pleine vitesse. Thana', grâce à ses dons, accélérait encore leur progression. Il composa un appel.

— Týr, donne-nous une bonne nouvelle, demanda Thoma d'une voix ferme. Tout le monde est réuni, on t'écoute.

— On l'a récupérée. Elle a fait un sacré boulot là-bas, on a été attendus par le directeur lui-même... Mais... Týr inspira profondément, son visage se crispant sous l'émotion. Elle est vivante, mais Akainu l'a torturée. Il lui a coupé les deux mains. Si on était arrivés plus tard, elle serait morte, vidée de son sang.

Un silence pesant accueillit cette annonce. Thanatos, à ses côtés, se frotta les yeux, tentant de refouler ses larmes.

— Merci, Týr. Nous préparons le nécessaire, répondit simplement Thoma, la voix plus dure que d’habitude.

Un infirmier souffla les dernières informations au capitaine.

— Ses mains sont récupérables. Ils l’ont plongée dans un coma artificiel, le premier culot est posé, et… elle est en train d’être « remplie ».

— Très bien. On prépare la salle d’opération, répondit Céleste.

— On arrive dans quinze minutes. Préparez-nous une arrivée discrète et libre, ordonna Thanatos.

— Compris, Isaac s’en occupe, confirma Thoma.

Gatcha

Týr lâcha enfin sa rage, frappant du poing le bord du gouvernail. Les larmes coulèrent sans retenue sur ses joues.

— Putain, putain, putain ! craqua le capitaine. J’ai tellement eu peur Thanatos. J’ai cru que c’était son cadavre qu’on avait retrouvé par terre. Putain, tout ce sang !

Thanatos resta silencieux un moment, la main en visière sur ses yeux, l’autre crispée sur sa cuisse.

— Pareil, pendant un instant… Je ne l’ai jamais vu aussi blanche de ma vie.

★⋆✩✩✩⋆★⋆✩✩✩⋆★

L'agitation qui régnait sur l'île n'était que le reflet atténué des émotions violentes qui secouaient ceux qui savaient ce qui se passait.

Soan et Thoma faisaient front commun face à ceux qui s'agitaient. Jamais les deux hommes, pourtant rarement d'accord, n'avaient affiché une telle unité. Leur détermination choquait ceux qui les connaissaient.

Mais tous s'écartèrent quand ils sentirent une autre présence les traverser. Shanks avançait, les traits durs, le visage sombre, chargé d'une colère à peine contenue. Il jeta un coup d’œil froid à Thoma, ignorant totalement Soan qui lui lançait des regards hostiles.

Il se posta devant les deux hommes, sa main sur la garde de Griffon. Sa voix résonna sans peine comme un jugement sans appel au milieu du chaos.

— Je demande des explications sur l'absence de Béatrice Shine lors de la réunion décisionnaire qui s'est tenue il y a deux jours.

Le calme qu’il imposa fit trembler l’auditoire. Les spectateurs présents, qui eux-mêmes se posaient la question, voyaient dans l'intervention de l'Empereur une occasion d'obtenir enfin des réponses.

Cependant Shanks n'était pas dupe. Il avait remarqué les visages fermés des membres de la famille Shine. Armand venait de prendre à part William et ses fils, visiblement pour leur annoncer une nouvelle grave. Et surtout... la présence simultanée de Thoma et Soan, ces deux chefs de famille qui d'ordinaire ne pouvaient pas se supporter.

L'Opération Banaro, pourtant cruciale, avait été aussitôt reléguée au second plan. Interrompue brutalement lorsque des membres de la famille Kamuku étaient venus chercher Elias, Aaron, Liam ainsi que leurs femmes. Il avait vu ses amis quitter la réunion sans un mot d'explication. Laissant derrière eux une salle sidérée où chacun s'était demandé où était passée Béatrice.

Mais ce fut surtout le rapatriement massif et précipité des membres de la famille Shine qui secoua profondément son équipage et celui de Marco. Tous comprirent alors qu'un drame venait de se produire. Et que, pour la première fois depuis longtemps, eux, pirates, alliés, amis, étaient laissés dans l'ombre.

— Tu n'as pas un poste assez élevé, Shanks, pour que nous te révélions la localisation de l'héritière des Shine.

Une phrase parfaitement tournée pour faire passer la question du Roux pour une intrusion déplacée. Mais Shanks ne céda pas, la colère froide vibrante dans ses veines. Il répliqua, sa voix aussi affûtée que le fluide royal qui commençait à vibrer autour de lui.

— Et moi, je te demande le motif de son absence. En tant que signataire de notre alliance, il est de son devoir d'être présente à ces réunions décisionnaires.

Avant que ne puisse répondre Thoma, Céleste partit précipitamment. En se retournant, Shanks vit le navire de Týr dépasser le port principal, allant il ne savait où. L’Empereur savait bien une chose, c’était qu’il n’avait pas besoin de justifier ses déplacements.

Accompagné de ses compagnons, Shanks prit la même direction. Les réponses étaient à bord de ce navire, il en était convaincu. Il poussa son fluide perceptif, analysant les présences à bord. Il sentit celles de Týr, Joshua et des membres de l’équipage… mais aucune trace de Béatrice.

— Tu penses qu’elle est avec Týr ? demanda Beckman en marchant à ses côtés.

Hongo, qui les suivait, expliqua pour eux.

— Ça expliquerait pourquoi il file vers l’hôpital principal de l’archipel. Le port Est est là-bas.

Mais à leur arrivée, ce fut Týr lui-même qui les accueillit, figé sur le quai, droit comme un roc, mais aux yeux vides. Marco les rejoignit presque aussitôt, aussi inquiet qu’eux. Shanks lui fit part brièvement du mutisme de la famille Shine.

— Aaron, Liam et Elias ont été mis au courant. Et vu leurs têtes, ça ne présage rien de bon, yoi, ajouta Marco, rejoint par Izou et Joz. Je les ai jamais vus comme ça.

Shanks s’approcha de Týr, la voix dure.

— Týr, dis-nous.

Le capitaine ne répondit pas tout de suite. Son regard rouge était éteint, son teint livide. Il secoua la tête, lentement.

— Je ne peux rien vous dire.

Jamais Shanks n’avait entendu la voix de son ami aussi vide, aussi dénuée de vie.

— Est-ce qu’elle est vivante ? insista-t-il, luttant contre la panique sourde qui lui nouait le ventre.

Mais avant que Týr ne puisse répondre, un cri retentit dans le couloir de l’hôpital.

— Týr ! Viens vite !

C’était Akira. Sa voix, déchirée par l’angoisse, fit frissonner même ceux qui ignoraient encore toute la gravité de la situation.

Shanks ferma ses paupières, luttant pour rester rationnel. Mais plus le silence se prolongeait, plus son esprit s’emballait, imaginant le pire. Il revoyait Béatrice, assise à la table quelques jours plus tôt, riant à une plaisanterie de Yasopp. Il pouvait encore sentir sa main sur son bras. Et maintenant ? Il ne savait même pas si elle respirait encore.

Il fit un pas en avant. Cette fois, il laissa son aura s’imposer, implacable, dominant son ami sans difficulté.

— Dis-moi ce qui se passe, Týr.

Shanks savait pertinemment qu’il s’en voudrait plus tard, son ami avait l’air exténué, à deux doigts de s’effondrer sous les émotions.

Une voix, tremblante mais ferme, coupa court à tout.

— Ça suffit !

Ambre venait d’apparaître à deux pas d’eux. Elle tremblotait, les yeux rougis, la voix éraillée et du sang encore frais sur ses mains. Sans pouvoir s’en empêcher, les larmes coulèrent sur ses joues. Hongo fit un pas vers elle, mais elle le repoussa d’un geste sec.

— Va, Týr. Elle a besoin de toi.

Sans attendre, Týr s’éclipsa à toute vitesse vers la salle d’opération. Ambre fit face à Shanks, droite malgré ses frémissements.

— Qu’est-ce qui te prend ?! Penses-tu que c’est le moment de jouer à ça ? lâcha-t-elle, la voix brisée par l’émotion.

Elle refusait de céder, même sous la pression écrasante de son fluide.

C’était la première fois que les pirates voyaient Ambre, d’ordinaire douce et joyeuse, en colère.

Shanks inspira profondément pour se calmer.

— Je voulais juste savoir s’ils avaient besoin d’aide.

— Non. Thana’ et Reseph sont déjà sur le coup. Merci d’être venus. Je veillerai à ce qu’elle vous appelle dès qu’elle le pourra.

Un calme pesant s’installa. Shanks serra le poing.

— Va-t-elle survivre, Ambre ?

Il détestait ne pas savoir. Il détestait être impuissant.

— Je ne sais pas.

Cette réponse le frappa de plein fouet. Plus aucun mot ne fut échangé.

« Je veux la voir. »

Il se retint de le dire. Ce n’était ni le moment, ni sa place. Même ses propres frères n’étaient pas à son chevet.

Vaincu, le cœur lourd, il tourna les talons. Il devait évacuer cette peur sourde qui le rongeait. Comme souvent, il choisit de la noyer dans l’alcool.

★⋆✩✩✩⋆★⋆✩✩✩⋆★

— Týr ! cria Béatrice, le dos arqué sous la douleur, sa voix brisée par la panique.

Akira tenta de la rassurer, la maintenant fermement contre la table d'opération, une main posée sur sa poitrine pour l’empêcher de bouger davantage

— Il arrive, je te le promets, Béa.

Týr surgit en courant. Il lui adressa un sourire apaisant, mais il vit aussitôt dans ses yeux que cela ne suffirait pas. Quand elle voulut tendre la main vers lui, le choc la foudroya. Rien. Ses doigts ne bougèrent pas. La prise de conscience fut brutale, une vague de douleur et d’effroi l’envahit, lui arrachant un hurlement déchirant.

Thana’ et Céleste, accompagnés de plusieurs chirurgiens, s’activaient sans relâche. Ils recousaient méticuleusement chaque nerf, chaque vaisseau, reconnectant les tissus avec une précision presque irréelle. La magie de Thana’ stabilisait les os brisés, mais rien ne pouvait effacer la douleur insupportable qui traversait son corps.

Les larmes coulaient sans fin sur ses joues. Sa raison luttait pour rester immobile, mais l’instinct de survie la poussait à se débattre, déchirée entre lucidité et panique. Elle était trop consciente. Trop éveillée.

— Dors, Béatrice… il faut que tu dormes, répétait Týr d’une voix terrifiée.

Mais c’était trop tard. Son corps avait déjà saturé les doses maximales d’antalgiques et d’anesthésiants. Plus rien ne faisait effet. Son seul soulagement était le tissu qu’ils avaient glissé entre ses dents, pour qu’elle ne les brise pas en serrant trop fort.

Quand ils commencèrent à réaligner ses os, ses yeux se renversèrent vers l’arrière de son crâne, submergé par la douleur. Même la magie de Thana’, pourtant puissante, ne put masquer la violence de la reconsolidation osseuse, un processus qui prendrait des semaines sans dons. La douleur était telle qu’elle faillit sombrer dans l’inconscience… mais ne le put pas.

Elle hurla. Si fort qu’elle ne s’entendit même pas. Akira tourna immédiatement la tête vers le médecin de leur famille.

— Qu’est-ce qui se passe, Céleste ?

Céleste expliqua sans se laisser déconcentrer de sa tâche.

— Elle s’est arraché les tendons de ses cordes vocales.

Désormais, plus aucun son ne sortait de sa gorge. Juste des quintes de toux et des hoquets étouffés, qui suffisaient à témoigner de son calvaire.

La dernière pensée qui lui traversa l’esprit fut simple.

Les Dieux l’avaient abandonnée.

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Il ne voulait plus penser. Plus ressentir. Alors il fit ce qu’il faisait toujours dans ces cas-là : il but.

« Si boire pouvait résoudre mes problèmes, je viderais la mer entière. » La voix de Béatrice résonna dans son esprit, comme un écho lointain.

Dans un accès de rage sourde, il balaya d’un geste brutal tout ce qui se trouvait sur son bureau. Les papiers, les cartes, les bouteilles tombèrent dans un fracas sourd. Puis il s’effondra, à même le sol, adossé contre le mur froid.

Ses seuls réconforts : une bouteille de rhum et les souvenirs heureux d’elle. Ses paupières se fermèrent, sentant la brûlure de l’alcool lui ronger la gorge.

Et il se demanda, pour la première fois avec angoisse, si les Dieux allaient lui prendre, à elle aussi, la marraine de sa fille. Son amie.

Et si cette fois-ci, il ne pourrait rien faire pour empêcher ça.

★⋆✩✩✩⋆★⋆✩✩✩⋆★★⋆✩✩✩⋆★⋆✩✩✩⋆★★⋆✩✩✩⋆★⋆✩✩✩⋆★

Nombre de mots : 5 900.

Temps de lecture approximatif : 25 - 35 min.

3 months ago…

It was another stormy, summer day. And Elliot couldn’t be happier!

Many of their parents had advised against it, but of course, none of the children listened. Lightning scared none of them. I mean, what were the odds of actually getting struck by lightning?

They weren’t zero, apparently. At least, not when the storm isn’t a natural one.

Elliot pedaled her bike as fast as she could, trying to keep up with her best friend. Isolde had elected to stay home, working on another one of her schemes. The promise of something cool to see near the old military base drew them to the far edges of the town.

“Come on, we’ll run out of cloud cover! You know how hot it gets!” Aelga shouted through the sound of thunder and pouring rain.

“Huff…huff…I’m going as fast as I can, El! Why does Markus have to show us something this far out of town!” Elliot said through panting.

Aelga did an arc and stopped in front of Elliot, near the side of the old, paved desert road. “Here. Wrap this around your handle bars,” Aelga said, pulling out her old skate leash. She handed it to Elliot, who promptly tied it to her bike’s front.

“Alright, hold on tight. We’ll have to keep far away for a sec but once we hit a hill, I’ll pick up enough speed to just keep pulling you,” Aelga said as she tied the leash around her waist.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

In just a moment, Elliot and Aelga were speeding off towards the old military base. As it came closer into view, hidden under the cover of an old rock formation, Elliot noticed a large amount of lightning hitting only near the base.

“Hey, does that look weird to you?” She shouted to her friend.

“It’s just…huff…lightning. We get a lot more of it in the desert,” Aelga said between panting.

“No, I mean it’s only striking the base,” Elliot said, eyes fixated on the tall buildings jutting out in the skyline like a sore thumb.

“Probably got a lot of lighting rods there. Or it’s an experiment. I dunno. Don’t…ask…questions,” Aelga panted back.

The two sped down the road some more until they were a few hundred yards from the gate to the base. Aelga took a sharp right onto a hill leading to the rock formation overlooking the base. Aelga slowed down, sitting on a nearby rock and unlatching her skates, putting on a spare pair of beat up skate shoes from her bag.

Elliot hopped off her bike, setting it down against a nearby Joshua tree. Aelga set her skates down against her sitting rock, and the two began hiking their way up behind the rock formation, careful to keep in a crouch when the rock didn’t cover them completely from view of the base. Far too many times had they gotten in trouble for peaking over the fence.

The two finally came around a bend to a peak overlooking the base. Marcus could be seen crouching over the cliff face, camera pointed at the scene below.

“What’d you want to-“ Aelga began, but was cut off by Marcus shushing her, followed by him beckoning them next to him. Aelga did as she was told, Elliot reluctantly following. As Elliot crouched on her belly next to the other children, she got a better look at the incident unfolding below.

Two extremely tall and muscular men were standing barely a shoulder width apart. One was wearing a Japanese rice hat, the other wore sleeveless armor and a long, white braid. Neither had pupils.

“Is that-?” Aelga began.

“Yep. And they’re real, apparently. The storm’s that guy’s,” Marcus said, pointing to the man in the rice hat.

“I knew they were real, but like-holy crap,” Elliot awed, crouching next to Marcus and Aelga. “Are…they fighting?”

“Looks like it,” Marcus replied, camera still pointed at the two.

“They’re brothers, though. Why are they fighting so much? Raiden and Fujin are like, the nicest of all the earth gods,” Aelga whispered.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. If one of them is throwing a temper tantrum, it can’t be good for Kensington,” Marcus whispered, adjusting his camera to get a better angle as the two gods began encircling eachother. Fujin seemed to be trying to reason with Raiden, who’s eyes became a crimson red, along with the lightning arcing from his body. He held a strange, golden amulet.

“Which brings me to why I brought you both here,” he began. “I need your help to get a closer shot. If I can get definitive, clear footage of this, it’d get the government to totally leave Kensington,” he proposed, speaking a bit louder than before. Fujin gave a small side glance in their direction. All three kids ducked underneath their hiding-rock, eyes wide with fear.

“Okay, so who wants to climb the fence?” A wide eyed Marcus whisper-yelled sarcastically.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Aelga asked angrily. “Marc, both of them could snap us like a twig. I’m all for getting the special forces out of our town, you know that, and I’d do anything to help my friends. But that-that’s insane. The footage we have is enough!”

“Aelga, we need to be as clear as we can. Remember the last time we thought we god footage? Everyone thought it was fake!” Marcus whisper yelled.

“That was one time. We didn’t know anything about this sort of thing. Now, we know how to get a decent shot!”

“We can’t be cowards about this! If we want to be Kombat Champions one day, we need to be fearless! I’d climb the fence myself, but we both know I’d be too heavy for the fence. You guys are both way more nimble than me. Aelga, you have amazing balance and coordination, and Elliot, I’ve seen you hiking, you’re a natural,” Marcus said, gesturing to them both.

“No way, Marcus. This is too far!” Aelga whisper-yelled.

“Come on, don’t be a chicken! We gotta do this! For Kensington!” Marcus taunted.

“I’ll do it!” Elliot blurted, raising her hand. Aelga pulled her hand down. “Lia, you don’t have to do this. Come on!”

“No, I’m serious. Like Marcus said, I’m a great climber and I can be pretty quiet about it. I’ll just climb the fence and crawl into that big Joshua tree. They’ll be none the wiser,” Elliot said.

“Lia, We won’t think any less of you. Come on!” Aelga said, placing a hand on Elliot’s shoulder.

“I will,” Marcus muttered. Aelga punched him in the arm.

“I’m doing this, Aelga. I’ll be fine!” Elliot said, grabbing the old handheld camera from Marcus.

Elliot began climbing over their hiding rock, jumping down onto the fence just in front of it. She landed about halfway on the fence, gripping the chain links just behind the giant, old Joshua tree.

“Lia, wait!” Aelga began, reaching after Elliot. Marcus cupped her mouth and pulled her down so that both were just barely peeking over the fence.

Elliot snuck a peek at the two bickering gods before her. The one called Raiden took a step toward the one called Fujin, stomping in warning as lighting surged around his body, fists balled in anger. Elliot flinched, and frantically climbed the rest of the way up the fence, holding the video camera by the hand strap in her teeth.

When Elliot made it to the top of the fence, she was met by a barbed wire. She thought for a moment, then made her way up so that only her legs were standing on the fence. She grabbed two branches of the Joshua tree and lifted herself carefully over the barbed wire, then resting her legs onto a larger tree branch. Perfect.

Elliot shimmied along the branch until she was near the top, still hidden by thick leaves. She sat herself upright and grabbed the video camera in hand, making sure the recording light was still on. Sure it was, Elliot pointed the camera at Raiden and Fujin, zoomed in. Elliot was maybe 10-15 feet off the ground, but still incredibly close to the fight below. She shook a bit with both fear and nervousness, trying to keep her breathing as quiet as possible. She tried to listen carefully to the fight.

“Brother, let go of the amulet! This isn’t you!” Came the man in the braid. Fujin, she assumed, trying to remember the poster on Aelga’s wall with all the major earth gods.

“And why should I? The amulet has only made things clearer!” Raiden roared, a crack of Thunder ringing as he spoke. Fujin and Raiden circled eachother, Raiden now standing about five feet from the trunk of the tree, Fujin another 10 feet from Raiden. Where Elliot sat on her branch, she was right above where middle between them was.

“You’re talking nonsense! The amulet has only clouded your judgement! Let go of it! You’re not acting yourself, you’d never kill a former champion, no matter how far they fell!” Fujin hissed.

“I see now that you only wish to get in my way, dear brother! If you refuse to quit your interruption of earth’s protection, then you leave me no choice!” Raiden shouted, gathering lighting around his right arm as he prepared to strike Fujin. What happened next seemed to happen somehow in slow motion but also in a blur to Elliot.

The gesture Fujin made startled her, loosening her grip on the tree branch she was hugging. Losing her balance, she managed to grip onto the tree just before falling, hanging upside down onto it, but still doing her best to hug the tree branch with her free hand and legs. She kept the camera pointed at the fight as best she could.

Fujin acted quicker, however, and in a swift twist of his arms, shot a gust of wind that sent Raiden flying against the trunk of the Joshua tree, sending a wave of force that shook the whole tree. Elliot lost her grip, dropping the camera to the ground, and fumbling before she found herself plummeting to the ground with a big, “OOF!”

She landed smack dab in the middle of the two demigods, back first. Fujin’s eyes widened with worry. “What in the realms..? Get out of here, young one. Hurry!” He shouted, approaching the girl.

Elliot shook her head, pain shooting up through her spine to her neck and head. Everything went sort of black for a second. Her world span in circles, but she could still move somewhat. Raiden got himself up, shaking off the blow. Even more rage shot through his being, lightning surging from his fists to his eyes. Fujin tried to get help the girl up, but Raiden got to her first.

“Get out of the way, welp. Before I move you myself,” he spat.

Elliot blinked as she looked up at Raiden, tears welling up in her eyes from the pain. She shook in both pain and fear, Barely comprehending his words. Elliot tried to stagger onto her feet, but it wasn’t fast enough, apparently. Raiden grabbed her by her collar, and threw her back against the tree with far more force than her fall. But before she could even make it halfway to the tree trunk, Raiden shot a large stream of red lightning at her, landing on her right shoulder, shoving her even harder into the tree trunk. She screamed in pain as her body collided with the tree trunk and an unnatural amount of electricity ran through her nervous system. When she made contact with the tree, Raiden still kept the lighting flowing for a moment.

The sheer force pinned Elliot against the tree, searing her flesh and blinding her eyes, the electricity so close to her eyes. All she saw was a bright whitish-red flash of light as her whole body was completely overwhelmed in both temperature and shock. Her heart beat faster than she thought possible as electricity flowed through her body. Once the lighting stopped, her whole body felt numb. She gave out a blood curdling scream before her whole mind faded into blackness, all her senses so disoriented, all they sent her brain what was best described as a ringing sensation, just before her brain fell out of consciousness.

As for the impact against the tree, Elliot’s left arm made contact first against the tree, bones cracking under the force and weight of her own body pressing against her arm. Next we’re her ribs. An audible and loud “CRUNCH!” could be heard just over her scream. Fujin winced, eyes wide in horror, running to the little girl’s side.

The smell of burnt flesh and singed clothes filled the air. Elliot went limp onto the ground. Her right shirt sleeve was completely singed off, along with most of the back of her shirt, revealing black and red burnt flesh all along her arm, shoulder and back. It was almost difficult to make out her true skin color, so many char marks and a lightning bolt patterned-scars dotted her skin. Her hair on her right side was either gone or so burnt, all that was left was fuzz. Her entire right eyebrow as well as part of her left one were singed clean off. Blood had began to flow from her mostly unburnt left arm, cuts and scrapes from the rough tree bark.

Fujin cradled the broken body in his arms, checking for a pulse. Her heart did still beat, but it was faint and arrhythmic, holding onto dear life by a thread. A few small tears welled up in his eyes, before he let out a roar of anger. Raiden arced electricity around his fists, but Fujin sent him flying jn a gust of wind so hard, he landed square against the building nearby that held the special forces looking on in horror. The sheer force seemed to knock Raiden unconscious, sending the amulet out of his Raiden’s vice grip and landing with a clang a few yards from him. Several soldiers came rushing out to examine both the charred child and the unconscious Demi god. A medic ran to Fujin’s side.

“Is she alive?!” Came from the frantic medic, putting the stethoscope into her ears, gently putting it to Elliot’s chest. Barely, came an enraged Fujin. “She doesn’t have much time. We need to get her-“ the medic began, but was cut off when Fujin, cradling the charred child in his arms, stood up, determination filling his face.

“I will bring her back soon enough. But there’s only one thing that can save her right now. Maybe…” he said. Fujin bent his knees, and shot off like a hurricane in a jump. The sound of what could’ve been a jet normally rang loudly through the air, clouds of desert dust left in his wake.

“Stay with me little one. Please!” He whispered as he shot through the air. In a matter of seconds, he was just over the nearby moutain, and descended towards a cave near the base of the canyon the moutain transitioned into. Once he crossed the threshold into the mouth of the cave, his surroundings changed to that of the Sky Temple, as he passed through the portal. Fujin didn’t show his speed, blowing open every door in the grand building until he made it to the sacred Jinsei chamber.

Still cradling Elliot in his arms, he entered the pool, setting Elliot down to float on the surface of the water. Immediately, the water faintly glowed a soft blue as it surrounded Elliot’s charred flesh. The water went up to Fujin’s chest as he waded the water, still gingerly holding Elliot’s body. The remaining flesh surrounding Elliot’s arm swelled a little bit, a bit of muscle returning to the ligament. Before, Elliot’s skeleton was practically visible.

As the healing waters enveloped her, Fujin, in his heightened state of awareness from the adrenaline, could hear her little heartbeat slowly returning. It was still faint and arrhythmic, but the organ was no longer practically twitching but actually beating and pumping blood again. The cuts and scratches surrounding Elliot’s left arm closed up, along with a lot of the visible purple bruising fading from her chest. A purple imprint of her broken ribs were still visible, mind you, but her entire chest was no longer completely purple. The color returned to Elliot’s eyes. Most of the smaller burns along her body seemed to fade, leaving just her charred right arm and shoulder.

Time seemingly broke to a grueling halt as Fujin watched over Elliot’s more major wounds slowly close up or fade. “Do not fade, little one. Your spirit is strong, I can sense it. Please, just a little more,” he whispered in fear. His tears had dried, but he still felt himself shake from the whole ordeal. His anger had subsided a bit, being replaced by an intense protective instinct. Such a small person.

He’d guess her to be around 12 or 13, given her height and her more adolescent body shape. He assumed her to be female, given her tone of voice from earlier and more feminine voice and clothing choices. Well, what was left of them, anyway. They still looked quite plain though, almost rugged, as though they had been through many owners before her. Her build was a bit small, almost Hunger pained. She lean arms and legs though. He could tell she played outside quite frequently.

His heart sank, knowing that a difficult path of healing lay ahead for the young child before him, one filled with long rest and days spent away from her home. Barring her physical injuries, he couldn’t imagine her mind finding rest soon, especially at her young age. It didn’t help that she obviously lacked the Kombatant gene, the mysterious gene that gave so many Mortal champions their signature fast healing and incredibly resilient bodies. No, this girl’s body would have to heal like any normal human’s.

Elliot’s body’s healing began to slow, signaling the extent of what the Jinsei could do for her. Fujin was snapped back from his deep thoughts when the familiar sound of the doors to the chamber grinding open. Fujin got out of the pool and stood protectively in front of it. He was met by a wincing brother, holding his arm in pain, head hung in shame. Raiden barely met his brother’s anger-filled eyes. “B-brother…I-“

“Leave. The chamber is occupied,” Fujin said, eyes narrow at Raiden.

“Brother…please. I feel nothing but guilt and shame for what I did today. I am so sorry for what I did to you,” Raiden said, gesturing to the lacerations and cuts along Fujin’s arm. “I want nothing more than to-“

“Not by me!” Fujin shouted. “I will heal easily. I have seen your rage before. But her…” Fujin said as he stood aside, giving Raiden full view of the broken and charred body floating unconscious in the sacred pool. Raiden’s eyes grew wide in horror. He instinctively looked away, wincing at the mere ideas of her injuries entering his mind.

“She nearly died, Raiden. She’s a child! Her body can’t handle that kind of blast! You swore to protect them! Don’t you DARE look away! You did this! You destroyed her body!” Fujin screamed in anger.

Raiden stood silent for a moment, before looking up to meet Fujin’s gaze again. “What can I do to make amends, brother. I know how I acted…scared everyone,” Raiden said in a low voice.

“Everyone else?! Brother, the poor child! We’ve seen you possessed before, well all recover. They’re all Kombatants, they’ve seen much worse. But the girl…she may not heal fully again. You can start by checking on her once she has been checked in with the Special Forces doctors. She doesn’t have the kombatant gene, the Jinsei can only do so much,” Fujin said as he entered the Jinsei again, cradling Elliot’s body in his arms.

Fujin speed-walked past Raiden, sending him an icy stair. “You’d best stay here. The Special Forces will likely shoot you on sight, after what you just did. Heal, and then think about what you’ve done. As for the amulet-I will make sure it is safely stored. But you will have no part in it. You clearly cannot be trusted with it.” Fujin exited the chamber with a loud clang of the double doors.

————————-

As soon as Aelga saw the gust of wind, her heart sank. She had a small view of Elliot’s hiding spot in the tree, and saw Elliot flip over on the branch. Marcus took a sharp breath when he heard Elliot slip. In a blur of motion just a few seconds later, both kids heard Elliot let out a loud “OOF!” and a thump when she hit the ground. Both Marcus and Aelga looked at eachother, eyes wide with fear. They moved further right to get a better angle of the tree trunk, Elliot and the Demi gods coming into view.

Aelga wanted to move, wanted to spring into action, swoop in and save her friend. But the fear paralyzed her. She barely moved, heart racing in fear. In another blur and a flash, both children bore witness to the blast of lightning coming from Raiden, a blood curdling scream escaping Elliot, followed by a zapping sound, and then a crunch. Both their hearts sank, then Elliot hit the ground with a thud, her charred body laser engraved into the memories of both children.

“ELLIOT!” Screamed Aelga. She tried to jump to her friend’s rescue, but was held back by Marcus. He pulled Aelga back down, his eyes filled with fear and worry. He pointed to the thunder god, who began arcing lightning from his arms. “Don’t be a martyr! They’ll kill you!” Marcus said through gritted teeth. He shook from a rush of adrenaline.

They heard a loud roar from the infamously sweet wind god, sinking both their hearts further. Both Marcus and Aelga booked it to the area with Aelga’s skates and Elliot’s bike. Neither spoke, they just began pedaling and striding as fast as they could down the old dirt road. The adrenaline flowed through them, allowing both to keep pedaling and skating down the road at top speed the whole way home. They never once stopped or slowed down, never speaking a word. Both just ran straight to Aelga’s house, hiding in her and Isolde’s bed room.

Their father wasn’t home yet, his shift not ending for at least another hour. Both kids panted, breathing heavily. Isolde have both of them strange looks. “What the hell has gotten into you two?!” She asked incredulously. “And where’s Elliot?”

Tears welled up in Aelga’s face. “Elliot…she’s…I tried to do something! I tried to talk her out of it! Marcus-!” Was all Aelga sputtered out as Isolde hugged her sobbing sister. “

An hour later, Dean had turned the light on and got dressed, determined to find a 24 hour something or other to get food for his brother. But Sam was not in a good mood. He was still in bed, the sheets twisted around him, knee still elevated. His arms were crossed, his burned arm cradled gently in the other.

 “I said I’m not hungry, Dean! I was fucking sleeping.”

 “You need to eat Sam, this isn’t healthy! That wasn’t an ordinary stomach growl and you know it!”

 “Don’t get mad at me, Dean!” Sam’s yell turned into a cracked sob as he put his hands over his ears. Dean instantly felt regret and put his hands up in frustration.

 “I’m sorry, Sam, it’s…it’s ok. You don’t have to eat right now.”

 Sam just hung his head, his hands covering his eyes now. “I can’t eat, Dean, ok? I can’t!”

 Dean was about to ask what he meant when a sharp knock startled them both. Sam jumped nearly a foot, and his hands gripped the sheets tightly. He flinched in pain at his own sudden movement and grabbed his knee. Dean put his finger to his lips and Sam nodded, eyes wide. Dean’s hand was on the doorknob and was about to look through the peep hole when he heard a gruff voice come through the door.

 “Hey boys! Saw your light turn on. So know you’re up. I know you’re in there, Dean. I know you’ve put your filthy hands on him again, too. Open the fucking door before I make a scene.”

 Chills ran down Dean’s spine as Sam just froze, mouth open, unable to speak.

 “He’s not getting anywhere near y–“ Dean started to reach towards Sam when - WHAM! The door flew open with John’s swift kick, sending Dean tumbling into the bed nearest the door.

 “I told you to open the fucking door. Now look what you made me do.” John’s voice was eerily calm. The door swung closed behind him, resting on the broken door frame. John‘s eyes moved from one bed to the other.  One was made up neatly while the other one (still with Sam in it, in only his sleep pants), was unmade, sheets twisted everywhere - a clear indication of who slept where.

 “I knew it,” John spoke through clenched teeth, pointing at Dean. “Get up. I should have killed you. That fire should have snuffed you out. You can’t have him. He’s my boy, not yours.” John crossed his arms, somehow looking more menacing.  “Now…I will kill him Dean. As much as I love him, I’d rather he be dead than to let you put your hands on him again. He’s mine now. I made him mine”

 Sam cowered in the corner of the bed, unable to move.

 “Me? Put my hands on him?” yelled Dean. “What about you? Look, he’s terrified of you! You’re his father! You’re supposed to protect him, not beat him and starve him! And while you’re talking about filthy hands, what about you, John? We both know where your hands have been!”

 “That’s different,” John smiled. He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to Dean, pulling out his pocketknife. He pointed it at Dean’s throat, pressing the tip into his skin. Dean swallowed. John whispered in Dean’s ear, his lips disgustingly close. Making sure Sam wouldn’t hear him.

“Maybe I should kill you now Dean. In front of your brother. Slowly. Painfully. Make him watch. Think he’s terrified now? I’m going to make him watch me hurt you until he crawls so far into his shell only I will be able to pull him out. Then I’ll truly own him.” John stepped back and smiled, patting Dean’s cheek before looking at Sam again.

“What happened to you, dad?” Dean whispered.

 But John didn’t answer. In fact, the next words didn’t even come from his dad.

 “Dad? I’ll- I’ll go with you. Let him be and I’ll go with you.”

 “NO! Sam, no!” Dean yelled, reaching out to his brother.

But John was lightning fast, and grabbed Dean before he could get close to Sam. “Sorry, Dean. He picked me.” His eyes glaring with fury, he turned to Sam. “I’ll let your brother live. I’ll never go after him again. Ever. But you promise me right now boy. Promise me that you’re now mine. Tell him you don’t love him and he’ll be safe.”

 Sam hesitated. Dean shook his head, his eyes wide, silently begging Sam not to speak. He tried to squirm out of his father’s grasp, but his grip was iron tight. Sam just lowered his head, struggling desperately to hold back his tears.  His voice was barely a whisper.

 “I - I don’t love you Dean, he’s right. I’m sick. I need help. I know I can’t be with you. I know those thoughts are wrong. I just forgot. Dad’s just trying to c-cure me. I…I need to go with him. He…he’ll cleanse me. I’d rather know that you were safe, ok? I can’t love you like that Dean.  I’m his boy. You – you should go before he changes his mind.”

 Sam’s words washed over him like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in his face. Dean was stunned. His body went numb. The roaring in ears got louder. This couldn’t be happening.

 “Sam…you…you can’t mean that. Let me –“ but John still had him by the collar, and he couldn’t get any closer to his brother.

 “I can’t have you dead, Dean. If I can save your life then I will. Let me go.”

 “Sam…no! I can’t just do that!”

 John, now irritated, rolled his eyes. In one swift move he let go of Dean and grabbed the pistol he kept in his waistband. He took Sam by the ear, digging in his nails. Sam squeaked in pain, but made no effort to try to get away. John forced Sam to stand, and Sam winced when his sore knee twisted as his father pulled him up. John then brought the gun up to Sam’s temple, pressing hard. Sam gasped as John wrapped his other arm around his neck.

 John continued, “I’m done fucking around, Dean. Either you leave quietly or I kill Sam. How about that, huh? I’m gonna take him, and you’re going to walk away. Or…would you rather have him dead?”

 Dean shook his head. “No.” he whispered.

 “Then step back.” John cocked the gun and Sam shut his eyes, grabbing desperately at his dad’s arm, which was starting to squeeze around him, cutting off his airway.

 Dean raised his arms and took a step back, but John didn’t let go. Dean saw Sam turning purple. His gasps and pleas faded into silent screams as he was no longer able to make any sounds. His arms fell limply by his sides.

 “Sam!” Dean screamed, but moved no closer. Couldn’t risk his dad pulling the trigger.

 “Ha!” John kissed the unconscious Sam on his cheek. “That’s my boy!” He put his gun back in his waistband and strode past Dean, tossing Sam over his shoulder by his bandaged arm, pulling the gauze off almost completely. Dean saw flayed pink flesh and shuddered. As John reached the broken door, he stopped to thrust his finger in his oldest son’s face. “Stay away Dean. If I ever see you anywhere near us ever again, even if you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I will take him to the nearest side of the road rest stop and punish him severely. Painfully. Then? I’ll execute him. I’ll throw his body in a fucking dumpster. And I’ll film the whole fucking thing. Then I’ll send you the video. Now step. The fuck. Back.”

Every happy memory Dean had of his father burned away behind his eyes. There was only a steel core of hatred now. But Dean did as he was told, every fiber in his being screaming out in desperation as John walked out the door. Dean’s heart was racing. He didn’t know what to do. He thought about what Sam had said to him. Why would he do that? Why give himself back to his dad like that?

 Dean stood up and headed towards the door cautiously. It was still dark outside. Very early in the morning. No one would be up at this time. But someone had to have noticed the yelling. There were surely people outside, curious, right? Dean stepped out behind his father, just as he started walking down the steps, Sam’s limp body dangling precariously over his shoulder.

 But there was no one else outside. The parking lot was empty, only two cars remained. The truck and the Impala. Instantly, Dean knew he had only one chance to get this right. He looked from one car to another, gauging the distance, and headed down the stairs after his father. He waited until John had put Sam in the truck and was wandering to the driver side before he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, hands casually resting in his pockets.

 John was not startled. He sighed in exasperation, and rested his arms on the top of the open driver side door, making sure Dean saw the gun still in his hand.

 “You can have the Impala,” John said coldly.

 “Fuck you, John.” Dean didn’t move.

 “No thanks, Dean.” He turned to Sam, unconscious in the truck and licked his bottom lip.

Dean lost it. In that moment, he lost everything that made him human and his primal side burst through. He actually growled as he leapt forward, slamming the car door closed, trapping John’s fingers inside. The gun clattered away, resting just behind the back tire.

 “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” John started screaming and scrambling for the door. It was locked. John stared at his bloodied fingers as he fumbled in his pocket with his free hand for the key.

 Dean took the opportunity. He ran to the other side of the car and moved an unconscious Sam from the truck to the Impala. Sam did not wake up.

 Back on the truck’s driver’s side, keys made their way into the handle. The locks popped and John wrenched the door open, freeing his broken fingers. “GOD DAMMIT YOU SHIT!” John turned towards the back of the truck to confront Dean – and turned directly into the barrel of his own gun.

 Just inches away, the gun wavered in front of John’s eye.

 “Fuck.” John whispered.

 Dean pulled the trigger.

 ***

 He peeled off onto the road, turning on his headlights as he left the city. Sam still unconscious beside him. Dean checked his rear view mirror. Nothing but blackness behind him.

Sam’s stomach growled again.

Dean reached for the cup holder and fished out his phone, flipping it open quickly.

He had a phone call to make.

Tags:

Meanwhile....

You lay running your finger down Gabriel's chest. The two of you had barley made it to the bathtub before Gabriel was back inside of you. You held to the bathtub as Gabriel made love to you again from behind.  

This led to the two of you laying in the bathroom floor with your leg thrown over his body. Gabriel held to you tightly making sure that you weren't uncomfortable on the cold tile floor.

“So we are good?”

You nodded, nuzzling your face against his chest.

“Yes. Next time you cheat on me I will curse you with permanent erectile dysfunction. Don't try me blondie.”

Gabriel winced.

“Well fuck, let's not go and do that. Don't worry, Y/n. I am strictly with you now. No tricks and no games!”

You smiled before sitting up slowly. To your shock, you trusted him. Gabriel seemed truthful and for the moment that was enough for you. At least he knew what consequences he would be facing if he slipped up again.

“I need to go find my mother. She is probably freaking out trying to find me.”

Gabriel whined.

“Do we have to go bringing her in here? You know that she is going to try to curse me.”

You chuckled.

“I need to go find my mother and at least let her know that I am with you. I'll be back in

minutes tops.”

Gabriel groaned before getting up. He didn't care one bit that he was completely naked and your eyes were glued to him.

“Don't worry I will still be naked when you get back.”

You yanked your dress back on before walking over to your archangel and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Be a good boy.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and said in a mock whining voice that you were being unfair.

15 minutes later, after a brief make out session that you had to stop before sex started again,  you were walking back down the hall to find your mother.

“Y/n?”

You turned and there stood a face you remembered all too well.

“Sleipnir, did your father send you?”

He nodded, flashing you an innocent expression. You frowned thinking of a way to vanish the moron in front of you.

“Dear, take yourself and you used car salesman suite and go back to daddy.”

He looked down at his suite before looking up offended.

“I can't go back empty handed”

As soon as you started to caste a spell to ward him off, the world went dark...

Gabriel sat on the couch waiting for you to come back. He tapped his foot anxiously knowing that it had been way more then 15 minutes. Right as Gabriel stood a vision of what happened hit him. Gabriel wasted no time in snapping on clothes

before vanishing out the door and into the hall way.

He stood in the hallway and looked down to see your locket that he had given you in the floor.

“You! Archangel! Where is my daughter and what have you done with her?”

Gabriel turned looking at Rowena with furious eyes. Rowena froze immediately knowing that something was wrong.

“I've done nothing to her. Its Loki that you need to be worrying about.”

Rowena stepped forward.

“That clown has got my daughter? Why on earth would you let that happen you moron?!”

Gabriel's eyes began to glow before turning back to the normal gold hue. This made Rowena step back a few steps and realize that Gabriel wasn't playing.

“She was coming to find you. Y/n was afraid that you would be worrying about her. If you weren't here this wouldn't be happening.”

Rowena put her hands on her hips.

“If you kept your cock in your pants, then none of us would be here and that trickster wouldn't even be interested in my daughter anymore!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Enough! We need to find her and fast. Better get some help.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers resulting in Sam, Dean, and Cas appeared. Dean held a spatula and was wearing a “Kiss the chef” apron. It was surprised that Gabriel didn't burst into fits of laughter.

“Really? We were in the middle of a cookout!”

Dean snapped. Sam frowned looking between Gabriel and Rowena.

“Oh no! What are you two doing together?”

Cas quickly came in as well.

“Where is Y/n?”

Gabriel looked if possible angrier!

“LOKI HAS Y/N!”

He all but yelled. Dean threw the spatula down.

“How did he get her? I need some answers here!”

Rowena finally came in.

“She and Gabriel were making up apparently. Makes me want to rip my tongue out just saying that! Y/n apparently came to find me after she ditched me for him. He must have grabbed her then! My poor sweet little baby. She must be terrified.”

Sam and Dean exchanged freaked out expressions. Rowena was really on this being a mom kick! Dean held a hand up as he noticed Gabriel's eyes were glowing again.

“It was Sleipnir. He did it because Loki told him to do it. That coward is getting killed too!”

“Okay! Okay! We will find her. Gabriel, I need you to breathe or do whatever you archangels do to calm down!”

Meanwhile....

When you came back to consciousness, you were laying in silk sheets and completely nude.

“Decide to wake up? About damn time. Sex with you unconscious is kind of a drag.”

You eyes snapped to the couch where Loki sat starring at you like nothing was out of the ordinary. Quickly, you yanked the sheets over you breasts.

“You touched me?!”

Loki shrugged with a snarky expression that he wore so well.

“Check between your legs and that should answer your question.”

You didn't move but the feeling of shame and fury washed over you. Had this been a few years ago, you would have been all over Loki. The two of you didn't have a .

healthy relationship by any means! It mostly consisted of sultry hookups and epic fights. Sure, your relationship with Gabriel wasn't really healthy either but things were starting to look up.

“You sick bastard!”

You hissed angrily! Loki got up and yanked you out of the bed. He slammed you against the wall and crammed his body against yours.

“Bastard? You want me to show you a bastard? Want me to have my way with you again? Because, sweetheart I will be more than happy to. I want to get all of that archangel sent off of you. You still taste so good.”

His lips locked on your neck. You tried to push him away but wasn't successful.  

“I'm going to tell you a little secret. You are never going to see Gabriel again. I'm going to kill him and make you watch. You are never getting away from me again. Its time that you kept your promise to me? Have you forgotten it?”

You looked away feeling repulsed. The last thing that you wanted to do was think of that promise! You never meant it anyway.

“I asked you a question, Y/n.”

Loki growled. You turned to look at him with a defiant expression on your face.

“I promised that I would give you another son and stay with you forever. It isn't going to happen. I love Gabriel. I don't love you anymore! You aren't going to kill him, Loki. He will kill you first.”

Loki looked furious for a moment before pushing you away.

“We'll see about that. I'll be back to see you when I want some more of that sweet body.”

The following bit of time was a repeat of the first. Loki would come into have his way with you then taunt you for hours about what he was going to do to Gabriel. He wouldn't let you leave the room and insisted on making you wear lingerie the whole time. The whole time you were silently praying to Gabriel to hurry and get to you. When he didn't bust through the door and stab Loki through the heart you knew Loki was fucking with your prayers. He wasn't letting Gabriel hear you. You worried that you would never get out of the room again!

He also found a way to stop you from using your powers. If you could cast a spell then perhaps you could kill Sleipnir and get the fuck out of dodge before Loki could figure out what happened.

You tried your best to keep Loki away from you. Anytime that he was fucking you the master plan was to call him Gabriel. That made him lose whatever concept of a hard on that he had. If you wasn't taunting him then you were comparing everything that he to everything that Gabriel did.

“At least Gabriel is a good lover.”

“At least Gabriel can make me smile. You can't do that. All you can do is be a hateful prick!”

That for the most part got Loki off of her back until he calmed down some.

You sighed miserably one morning. Loki had gone off to torture some poor pathetic soul leaving you alone with the guards.

The sound of gunshots quickly got your attention. Standing up you ran to your nightstand and too out the revolver that you snatched off of Sleipnir when he wasn't looking.

When the door busted open you fired.

“Owe! Shit!”

Your eyes snapped open the moment you heard that voice. Looking up Gabriel was healing the bullet wound that hit right beside his heart.

“Gabriel!”

You had never ran across a room so fast! Gabriel had his arms around you.

“Y/n! Sugar, are you okay?”

The thought of knowing that you were safe and that Loki was never going to touch you again was enough to make you sob.

“I am now.”

You managed to get out as Gabriel tightened his hold on you. He gently kissed the top of your forehead. Neither of you made any move to let go of each other for a long time.

When Gabriel did let go of you, he was shocked at the state that you were in. If the situation wasn't so serious he would have been instantly turned on by the outfit that you were wearing. Yous stood in a red push up bra, cheeky lace panties, matching red stockings with garter, and red high heels.

Gabriel's lips tightened into a hard line. One look at your lover told you that he was beyond livid.

“What did he do to you?”

He growled angrily.

“Did he touch you?!”

You looked down completely ashamed. What if when you told him that Loki fucked you and Gabriel didn't want you anymore? You couldn't stand that! Gabriel is all that you had been dreaming about for days.

“Yes he did. Gabe, please don't leave me. I didn't want him to! I tried to make him stop!”

The electricity in the room began to flicker and Gabriel's boy was trembling with rage. You started to walk away. Maybe everything was over and you were going to be stuck with Loki forever. The tears started to flow again however, Gabriel's wings were pulling you back to him.

“Y/n, stop. This wasn't your fault. I love you, always will. I'm going to kill him!”

About that time Sam and Dean walked into the room but froze the moment that they saw your half naked body. Sam immediately closed his eyes while Dean looked you over.

“Whoa!”

Gabriel growled angrily.

“Dean!”

Dean looked off the other direction.

“Sheesh shes with you feathers! I can't complete with that. Y/n, are you okay?”

“Sure.”

You replied weakly. Gabriel looked up as Cas walked into the room.

“Cas, get her out of here and get her back to the bunker.”

Your eyes immediately widened before turning in Gabriel's arms.

“What are you doing!?”

Gabriel quickly cupped your face in his hands.

“Darlin, I will be home as soon as I can. I am staying here and when Loki and Coward Jr shows up, I am taking care of them. I am full charged and totally pissed off.”

“So are we.”

Dean replied. Sam nodded, agreeing silently.

Gabriel let his hands drop to his sides before speaking in your mind softly.

“Everything is going to be okay. I don't want you to worry Whatever has been happening, we'll make it through it.”

He stepped closer and pulled you into a long kiss. You sighed against his mouth. Finally something that you knew and loved!

“I'll see you soon. I love you.”

Gabriel looked at you sadly.

“I love you too, sugar.”

Gabriel quickly snapped some clothes on you. The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to see what was his!

Cas approached you slowly and held out his hand. You took his hand without question knowing that you would be safe. Before Cas vanished, he let you take one last look at Gabriel. His expression was unreadable and almost foreign.

The next thing that you knew you were standing in the middle of the bunker with Cas. He looked down at you sadly.

“Let me make you some tea.”

He said softly. You nodded walking to the couch and sitting down drawing you legs up to your chest.

A few minutes later Cas walked in with a steaming up of tea in his hands. He sat it down in front of you before snapping a bottle of honey in his hand.

“Here you go, Y/n. I hope this makes you feel better.”

You smiled. Here was kind Castiel. You couldn't be more thankful for his friendship at the moment. He wouldn't be like Dean who would be walking around the room cussing like a sailor or Gabriel, who was on a murderous rage. Cas or Sam was perfect for this particular moment in your life. Now only if you could get Gabriel to sit still and just hold you everything would be better.

“Y/n, I shouldn't has questions. But I want you to know if you need to talk about anything, I am here for you.”

You smiled again.

“Thanks Cas. I really do need to talk to you about something. You can't tell anyone what I am about to tell you. I mean anyone!”

Cas sat down.

“Of course. I won't say a word.”

You took a deep breath, fighting the tears.

“Cas, I'm pregnant.”

The angel's face looked stunned. He was quiet for a moment before he began to speak.

“I see. Do you know who the father is? Gabriel or Loki?”

You looked down.

“I don't know. That's the horrible part. I'm sorry to say this in front of you in advance. Gabriel and I had been making love several times a day. That sack of porpoise poop, Loki, sure had a good time with me.”

Cas' eyes widened. For a moment he didn't know what to say. Saying that Gabriel would be angry would be an understatement.

“Does Gabriel know?”

You shook your head.

“I didn't have a chance to tell him. I'm scared, Cas.”

Cas looked at you sadly.

“I would consider you a fool if you weren't. Y/n, I want you to listen to me. Gabriel is in love with you. He needs you like you need him. Yes, you two are extraordinary jealous of each other  but you are in love with each other. I can see that. I don't think that Gabriel will let you down.”

You smiled at Cas' words and could only hope that he was right....

______

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As the prospects of finding a link between Mudd and Key West were beginning to dry up faster and faster, Faith and Sam decided to switch the focus of their search to the phrase branded into the barrel. The Third Artillery. They found no mention of it in any of the history books they had, which left what hope Faith had left waning. Sam on the other hand, who was trying to hold on to his diminishing optimism, had another idea.

Faith and Sam rounded the corner of the block. A basic, black wrought iron fence ringed the Key West Cemetery. Beyond the barrier sat 19 acres of eccentric island graveyard. Each headstone, each marker, each crypt had a unique twist that embodied the essence of the island itself. White mausoleums, faded with age, stretched along segments of the fence. They dwarfed the other single person crypts, five rows of final resting places resided in the tall buildings.

Sam strode through the gate and under the large metal archway into the cemetery as if on a breeze while Faith trudged slowly through, the unease of all of the dead people inside doing a tap dance on her stomach. Nervous perspiration began to form at her temples and mingled with the beads of sweat already there from the heat.

It's just a cemetery. It's not like you know anyone buried here. You got this Faith; you got this.

“You ok?”

The sound of Sam's voice shook her brain loose from the anxiety that was trying to grab hold.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said.

“Then let get moving,” He said, nodding his head forward.

Faith blew out a heavy breath, quickly caught up to Sam and fell into step next to him to explore the sprawling graveyard.

A small, green sedan with Georgia plates parked underneath one of the massive palm trees which lined the street that led to the entrance to the cemetery. The man in the driver's seat watched as Sam and Faith walked up the wide lane, the graves flanking them on either side. He kept his distance. When he was sure he was out of earshot, he slid out of the driver's seat and closed the door behind him. Stowing a small handgun in the holster hidden under his billowing shirt and a cellphone in his pocket, he began to follow them. He kept a reasonable distance, but never took his beady eyes off the pair walking a couple of rows ahead of him.

Faith made sure to grab one of the maps for the self-guided walking tour of the cemetery when they came in. After a few blocks in, she produced the glossy pamphlet from her back pocket.

“Where's their section for the military?” Sam asked.

"I don't see a designated military part, so I'm guessing they're just spread all over," Faith shook her head and scanned the numerous gravestones around her.

“Shit,” He grumbled as he produced a smoke from his shirt pocket, giving it a light.

Good thing it's a full pack, he thought to himself, I'm gonna need it if I have to look at every goddamn tombstone in this place.

“So, I gotta ask, how do you know so much about a town you've never been to?” Sam asked, his words accented with an exhaled plume of smoke.

Faith smiled as she stared at the long worn in ruts of the cemetery road under her feet.

"When I was around 15 or 16, my mom decided that we should go on vacation when I graduated high school. She let me pick where we would go, and I picked Key West. Before we went, I wanted to know all about where we were going, so I read up on the city and its people and its history. You know, like the geek that I am. Then graduation came and..." Faith shrugged her shoulders with a defeated sigh.

Sam nodded knowingly while he walked beside her. He knew that expression. He'd spent most of his teenage life wearing it.

"We tried to go again when I graduated college. We got closer that time! We had the money for it then, and we were all ready to book it, but then my mom got sick, and that was that." Faith's voice went soft and quiet as she reached the end of her story.

“She was sick for a pretty long time, huh?” Sam said as his eyes scanned the text of the tombstones as they walked by them.

Faith picked at her cuticles. "Since I was eleven. That was the last time I remember her being healthy."

“Cancer?”

"Self-destruction."

Faith's answer caused Sam to look at her; his face wore a look of confusion.

“Ok,” She began with a deep breath, “My parents loved each other. I mean, really loved each other. I'm talking Gomez and Morticia Addams level of love; you know what I mean?"

Faith continued after Sam nodded his head, his full attention focus on Faith's story, the cemetery falling away around him.

"And that shit's rare. I knew that when I was little but I didn't really understand just how special and how rare that intense, 'compliment and complete each other' kind of love was until I was a lot older. Anyway, my parents went on vacation. There was an accident. My dad got hurt and ended up in a wheelchair with brain damage."

“How bad?” Sam interjected.

“Before it, he was a music teacher, did piano accompaniment that kinda thing. And after it, he couldn't play anymore; he couldn't remember how to either."

“That's a tough hand to be dealt,” Sam said as he ground the butt of his cigarette into the grass with his boot.

“Yeah it was, and mom tried her best. Quit her job, took care of him full time. Then one day, two years later, he told her he was tired and put a shotgun in his mouth,” Faith said very matter of fact.

“Jesus,” Sam exclaimed in a low voice.

Faith's eyes hardened. “Yeah, I don't think he was there that day,” she said through pursed lips.

Her retort caught him off guard and made him stop in his tracks while she continued forward without breaking her stride.

Sam wanted to tell her that she didn't have to talk about this. That she could tell him to fuck off and mind his own business and that would be alright, but Sam had a feeling this was something that needed to be said.

"Ma kept it together pretty well in the beginning. She was strong for me; I was strong for her. Between going back to work and getting me through high school she didn't really have time to fall apart, you know? Then I went to college, and it was like this depression just... consumed her. She stopped taking care of herself. I'd come home on weekends and take care of her, try and distract her, get her out of her head and out of the house. But it just didn't work. She kept fixating on dad and why he did it and why didn't she stop him and yadda, yadda, yadda. And after ten years, her body just broke down. Kidneys stopped working, infections all the time, her muscles atrophied. She couldn't walk anymore so she couldn't work. For ten years I tried to get her to fight, tried to make her want to live. But in the end, she said she was tired, and she didn't want to fight anymore. So I had to let her go," Faith finished with her head hung down. She willed herself to keep it together and not cry. Instead, she continued to stare down at her shoes intently while they walked.

Her story sat in Sam's throat like a sticky ball. Some of it had felt so chillingly familiar. A mother giving up on life, depression, suicide, being left alone. The story had echoed that of his teenage years with the loss of his mother and ending up in an orphanage with Nathan. For one of the few times in his life, he didn't know what to say. He wanted to tell her he understood, that he understood deep down on a level that only a person that has lost a parent at a young age could.

Instead, Sam put his hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her in close next to him while they walked. He tilted his head, letting it rest on the top of hers.

The action was more sincere and heartfelt for Faith than any 'I'm sorry' ever could be.

They walked like that for a few more steps. Unable to deal with the sad, maudlin feeling anymore, she broke from his grasp and turned around to face him while she walked backward.

"But hey! I made it! I'm here!" Faith said with a grin as she stretched her arms out. She saw Sam smile back at her, but the small guy in the distance caught her eye. He was only a row or two back from their current position. There were other people in the cemetery, tourists on bikes, the occasional work truck of the groundskeeper. What grabbed her attention was his shoes. White penny loafers with no socks that stood out under his light tan slacks.

Definitely not appropriate footwear, I don't care how Miami Vice it looks, she thought to herself.

The man in the insensible shoes looked ahead to see Faith staring at him. He quickly slowed his pace and began to find the small mausoleum next to him very interesting, giving it his full attention.

Despite the looming threat of being found by Jasper's people, Faith had tried to keep her paranoia to a minimum. She knew if she were suspicious and freaked out about every person she passed in Key West, she would be a complete mess. She had been doing well until now. Those out of place shoes though. They sent a quiver up her back as if someone dragged their thumbnail up her spine. Faith shook it off, keeping the expression on her face light and airy.

“Let me see the map,” Sam asked, bringing himself to a stop and holding out his hand. Faith handed the sweat softened map to him.

Sam unfolded it carefully, his face contorted with a look of playful disgust.

“Didn't you just grab this at the gate?”

“Oh bite me. It's warm out,” She said with a wave of her hand as she stood next to him to read over his shoulder.

"I think here's probably our best shot." Sam pointed at a small square with a picture of an anchor that read 'USS MAINE MEMORIAL.'

“Yeah, but let's snake our way through the place, see if any of the graves in here mention 3rd Artillery.”

Sam refolded the damp map and put it in his back pocket.

“Alright sister, you lead the way.”

Faith chanced a small glance behind her, the man in the white shoes was nowhere to be seen.