Her ears rang.
Charlie faintly remembered a story she'd heard once, from someone. Her dad, the internet, someone on her NROTC course or a Marine she'd bumped into during that part of their summer course. It was all blending together a little too much for her to really remember, but maybe that was because of how her head rang too. Everything rang or hurt. Not in the 'oh boy you've been blown up by a grenade, you can count your lifespan in seconds now' way, but more so the 'guy with a bat's worked over you' way.
Anyway. To the story.
Some guy, somewhere — maybe it was a Soviet soldier in Afghanistan, or an American in Afghanistan, or someone in some conflict somewhere — was in a gunfight. Someone threw a grenade at him, or maybe it was an IED or something, and it blew up real close to him. When the smoke and dust cleared, apart from the explosion burns and blown out ear drums, he was completely fine. No shrapnel had hit him, despite how close he was.
Quarter of a mile down the road, a tiny piece of shrapnel, going all that way with all that energy, sliced through an artery in another soldier's neck and he's dead without even seeing the bang.
The fog starting to fade from her head as Evan slid off of her with a wet-sounding splat, Charlie knew what it felt like to be the first man. Her legs were... her everything hurt like a bitch, but Evan'd taken most of the shrapnel.
"Evan?" Charlie mumbled, starting to push herself up into a sitting position. Where Esther and the Chimera had once been was now just pieces of meat and bone and oily blood, splattered all around and on her. God. They'd avenged Chevy, but at what cost?
"Evan... Evan! Are, are you OK?" A shot of adrenaline pumping through her body, Charlie glanced down at her savior.
No, he was not OK.
Shallows Low
Pull the pin, see the light. (Day 4, private)
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Applesintime
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“Nope. But - but you’re…”
Darkness. Then faint, cold light again.
He blinked, his eyes wet. Did he just pass out?
Charlie was still alive, breathing, and appropriately alarmed. It was clear enough from the look in her eyes that he was fucked.
For real, now, though he'd felt it for a while. It felt like that from the second he’d locked eyes on that monster, when he realized it had cut him deep only a second after he’d gotten a shot off. Evan knew been holding onto something of a fool's hope it’d be enough to haphazardly stitch it up. Like he wasn’t much more than a plush toy with the stuffing spilling out.
Back home, he had this silly old stuffed squid, almost comically large for a plush toy. Leaf had given it to him, bought from an aquarium they’d gone to together. The only realistic parts of it were the eyes, which were strangely intense. They’d both found it pretty funny, and sent a bunch of pictures of the eye to Evan’s sister Darcy with no context, as a weird joke. The squid was just the right size and shape to sleep next to; sleeping on his back almost always led to night terrors, which were a problem.
He was on his back now, except it felt like he was on the other side of the nightmare this time. Part of him entertained the idea of waking back up in his bed.
Evan really, really wanted something to hold onto. Like a ridiculous squid, or his itinerant friend. Anyone who cared enough to be happy to see him, even when he was so often far from his best.
They’d never see him again. No one would.
Tears welled in his eyes, and quickly mixed in with the blood pooling beside his head. He didn’t want to go out a sobbing mess. He didn’t want to go out, but he was - and he always said he wanted to go out smiling, when he felt he had to chime in on discussions of mortality. Playing it up for the sake of conversation, but quietly believing it the whole time.
Evan smiled a bloody smile, and squeezed Charlie’s hand. It wasn’t a forced grin - the idea that he was worried about getting this right somehow - like he was hoping for a good grade in dying in a pool of his own blood - well, that seemed to be enough.
Getting too many words out wasn’t really in the cards, of which there were few left to play at this point. He said what he could.
"You’re - you’re alive. Still alive - that's good."
He hoped his expression was enough to convey his gratitude. There wasn't breath left to say any more.
The cold seemed to seep up from the ground, like it was starting to claim him.
He tried to focus on how the other person’s hand was still warm; how it was still going to be, long after he wasn’t.
That felt like it meant something.
P23 Evan Keane - DECEASED
Darkness. Then faint, cold light again.
He blinked, his eyes wet. Did he just pass out?
Charlie was still alive, breathing, and appropriately alarmed. It was clear enough from the look in her eyes that he was fucked.
For real, now, though he'd felt it for a while. It felt like that from the second he’d locked eyes on that monster, when he realized it had cut him deep only a second after he’d gotten a shot off. Evan knew been holding onto something of a fool's hope it’d be enough to haphazardly stitch it up. Like he wasn’t much more than a plush toy with the stuffing spilling out.
Back home, he had this silly old stuffed squid, almost comically large for a plush toy. Leaf had given it to him, bought from an aquarium they’d gone to together. The only realistic parts of it were the eyes, which were strangely intense. They’d both found it pretty funny, and sent a bunch of pictures of the eye to Evan’s sister Darcy with no context, as a weird joke. The squid was just the right size and shape to sleep next to; sleeping on his back almost always led to night terrors, which were a problem.
He was on his back now, except it felt like he was on the other side of the nightmare this time. Part of him entertained the idea of waking back up in his bed.
Evan really, really wanted something to hold onto. Like a ridiculous squid, or his itinerant friend. Anyone who cared enough to be happy to see him, even when he was so often far from his best.
They’d never see him again. No one would.
Tears welled in his eyes, and quickly mixed in with the blood pooling beside his head. He didn’t want to go out a sobbing mess. He didn’t want to go out, but he was - and he always said he wanted to go out smiling, when he felt he had to chime in on discussions of mortality. Playing it up for the sake of conversation, but quietly believing it the whole time.
Evan smiled a bloody smile, and squeezed Charlie’s hand. It wasn’t a forced grin - the idea that he was worried about getting this right somehow - like he was hoping for a good grade in dying in a pool of his own blood - well, that seemed to be enough.
Getting too many words out wasn’t really in the cards, of which there were few left to play at this point. He said what he could.
"You’re - you’re alive. Still alive - that's good."
He hoped his expression was enough to convey his gratitude. There wasn't breath left to say any more.
The cold seemed to seep up from the ground, like it was starting to claim him.
He tried to focus on how the other person’s hand was still warm; how it was still going to be, long after he wasn’t.
That felt like it meant something.
P23 Evan Keane - DECEASED
SOTF: U
Evan Keane: "I guess my world was always gonna end, somehow."
SOTF Supers:
August Hanlon - "This never felt like much of a Gift."
Evan Keane: "I guess my world was always gonna end, somehow."
SOTF Supers:
August Hanlon - "This never felt like much of a Gift."