Chapter 15
Risk

If you don't take risks, you'll have a wasted soul.
-Drew Barrymore

Alex sagged against in the chair. Her side was throbbing, causing a dull pain that just wouldn't go away. A special mention went to the bruise Officer Ripley so kindly gave her. Her hair was a mess, as were the clothes an officer had so kindly given her. Just some slacks and a clean tan sweater, but it better then her bloodstain set. She looked around the small and dank room.

An interrogation room.

After an hour of sitting alone, her mind had started to clear and she couldn't really bring herself to blame the officers. It did look pretty bad, with the only true witnesses completely shell-shocked and mute. Not to mention the agoraphobia the were probably feeling at the minute.

Another round of anger hit her.

The DeVoir children were no doubt causing a scene where ever they were and that thought only left her feeling worse. Her protective instinct was in high gear, but she could only sit and wait for them to come "wrestle the truth" out of her. Or so that idiot officer said. She gave out an irritated sigh.

Her thoughts floated back to everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours and it left her dazed and heart pounding.

How could she not have *seen* it? How did she miss the pain that elder woman held? She had known them for nearly five years, yet she couldn't even see the heartbreak the elder had. Of course, she KNEW she was hurting but not so much as to kill her self. Not like this, not with her two kids who need her so much.

'Take care of them.'

Her heart throbbed.

The twins must be terrified. They rarely left the house and only did so when accompanied by either their parents or herself. And that was most defiantly not the case right now. They had gotten lost once before and by the time she had found them, Natalie was curled into a ball, not moving an inch, and Nathan would stop staring and twitchy every few seconds.

It had been an unnerving sight, to say the least.

Once she had gotten them home, Delilah had quickly given the two some anxiety medicine and sent them to bed.

That had been during her first year with them.

Seeing them like that… It sent countless emotions through her. Anger, fear, sorrow, regret, joy, relief. But over all, what she felt the most was the burning desire to see them safe, protected. She swore silently to herself to never let them down again. That she would protect them with every fiber of her being. This desire shocked her, she had only known them for a few months back then, so it was strange she could it something so strong… yet…

It felt so right.

She dragged her hand through her hair.

But, she did it. She broke that simple promise. Here she was, locked away like a caged bird, while they were out there in with complete strangers. Doctors or not, she would feel better if she could only see them.

"I can't take care of them very well from jail, so I can't go screwing this up." She muttered darkly. "I have got to fix this. They need me."

The light above her flickered slightly.

She shifted in her seat, grunting in pain. Her ears perked as she caught sound of the jiggling door knob and muffled voices. The door open and an elder man stepped in. Her had scruffy grey hair with a beard to match and dark green eyes, that were completely focused on Alex.

"Ms. Sette, I am Detective Stan Benson."

Alex did her best not to glare, quickly standing up and taking his out reached hand. With a quick shake, they both took their seats. Taking a pause he looked her over and pulled out a small notepad.

"Do you know why you're here, Ms. Sette?"

"Yes." She answered stiffly.

The male scribbled something on the pad. "Then do you mind explaining everything that happened up to Mrs. DeVoir's death?"

"I already have!" She snapped. " I already went through this with the officers! Twice! Why aren't any of you listening?"

Stop mid-scribble, Benson shot her a look. "We're doing this for the children, ma'am. We have to check everything. Too many children have been sent home with killers, and never came back." He set the pencil down. "What would you do in our place? Would you send someone home with kids, just because they said, 'I didn't do it.'? Our job is to protect and serve. Right now, we're doing just that."

This caused Alex's breath to catch. "I didn't…" The children. For the children.

"Then just tell me everything, Ms. Sette. What happened before you heard a shot?" The detective had picked up his pencil and once again began to write.

"I-I had gone up to check on her, I was about to make lunch, you see, and we talked…" She stopped, taking a breath. "I should have noticed, should have said something…"

"What did you talk about?"

"I told her I found the kids, they had been hiding in the flower bed, then I tried to consol her. I kept saying things would get better. She had just been so down since Louis's death. Then I heard a crash."

"What was the crash?"

Alex went to say, but caught herself. "I don't actually know. I assume on the twins knocked a jar of food over. I went to check, but I never made it down… that was when I heard the gun shot."

"Ok…" He flipped the page. "What did you do then?"

"I ran back to her room, but her door was locked, so I yelled at her, trying to get her say something. I just couldn't get that damn door open." She banged her fist on the table as the memories flashed. "I didn't know what else to do, so I kicked the stupid thing in. And there she was… just sitting there, going on about he she "missed"… I tried to get the gun from her but she wouldn't give up. We struggled for a good minute or so… but the gun went off. Three times." She rested a hand on her still aching side. "It caught me in my side. It caught Delilah in her chest." She stopped, blinking back tears.

Benson looked up her with concern. "Take your time. Do you need something to drink?"

The blond shook her head. "No, no. I'm fine. Just tired… I want to get this over with."

"Ok, go on."

"The children were there… I heard them coming but I didn't have the strength to get them to stop, to not look… To see just how horribly I failed their mother. They saw. Saw her laying there, blood everywhere. No child should ever have to see something like that. They had just lost their father, and now… now their mother's gone too." She crushed her fist against her head. "I could barely move. I had to ask them to get the phone, just so I could call 911. I grabbed a blanket to try and slow the bleeding but it didn't help at all. The police and ambulance got there… They pronounced her dead on the spot. I just… I can't… I can't believe I couldn't stop her! I was right there! But NO!" Alex's voice grew louder. "It's not supposed to be like this! I let her die, I had her, and just COULDN'T do anything! And now, Nathan and Natalie are out there, most likely scared and traumatized, while I'm here! I promised I would take care of them, watch them, defend them! What kind of person does this make me?" Hot, angry tears welled in her eyes, while she tried to blink them away.

Benson shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Sette, take a deep breath. Just calm yourself. From what you've told me, you tried your best and did what you had to. There's no shame in that." He retracted his hand, and flipped his notepad shut. He shot her a small smile. "I think this is all we need. Just give me a couple minutes, and you'll be free to go."

Alex tried to discreetly wipe her eyes, then look at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry you had to go through all this ma'am, but it's like I said earlier, we have to make absolutely sure that it would be safe to send the children back with you. And with everything we've gathered, I'd say you've got nothing to worry about." He patted her back. "I'll give Foster Care a call to see if I can speed things up."

Alex grabbed his hand as he pulled it away, standing. He stopped and glanced at her. "… Thank you." She gave it a little shake before letting go.

"Of course." He smiled, then opened the door exiting. Alex called to him, just before he shut the door.

"Do you have any kids or siblings, Officer Benson?"

The brunette stopped, not looking at her.

"I… did."

"What?"

"My little brother." He turned, looking at her. "My father killed him, then himself."

"I'm sorry…"

"I know."

The door shut, and Alex sat down, quietly mulling over everything. Tears streaked down her face.

"I won't fail you again, Delilah, Louis."

I'll defend you.

Wes screamed as his boss hit the floor with a resound thump, quivering the whole way.

"SIR!"

He hit the ground next to Vernon, grabbing the elder as he gasped for breath.

"My god, he's having a heart attack!" Ishval gasped in horror.

"Don't just stand there!" The younger male growled back. "Call 911! Now!"

"R-right!" The was a small clatter as the phone was grabbed, followed by the dark hair man rattling out their problem and whereabouts.

Wes focused again on the eldest male. His breath was becoming even more shallow and he seemed to twitch in pain. He briskly began the chest compressions. The bad feelings from earlier seemed to peak again. He *knew* something bad was going to happen. If only he had persisted more! Sure, Vernon would have given him a severe lecture, that he'd probably have to recite back fifty times over, but it be worth it to not have to see the man he dearly looked up to, withering on the floor.

And somewhere deep inside him, he knew it had to do with the scientist behind him.

He breath twice into the elder then continued compressions.

"They're on their way!" Ishval announced loudly.

"Great." Wes grunted, part sarcastic, part relieved. He gave another two breaths.

He could feel eyes on his back.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize he would react so badly…"

Of course.

"It's fine."

The room fell silent again, besides Vernon's gasping.

The hair on the back of the soldier neck stood up. He rasped at Ishval.

"Why don't-" Compression. "-you go-" Compression. "-clear a-" Compression. "-path."

It wasn't a question, the they both knew it.

Rush out of the room, the scientist did as he was told, leaving the guard with his boss.

Now just focusing on just keep Vernon alive, he gave a couple ore breaths.

'Don't die, old man.' He thought angrily.

Not before me.

He didn't pause to wonder where that small voice came from.

Compressions; Thirty.

Breathes; Two.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

This was his duty. He wouldn't fail. Not after all the elder had done for him.

There were shouts from down the hall and a clamor of footsteps. Flocked with paramedics, Ishval burst into the room. As the paramedics swooped down with the gurney, the guard backed away, giving them space. As quickly as Vernon was lifted onto the gurney, a oxygen mask was shoved on his face. They took off out of the room and down the hall, calling orders back and forth.

Nothing but the best for the Senator.

Wes followed silently like an obedient dog, trailing them to the ambulance.

One of the medic turned to him. "Will you be riding with us?"

Shooting only a small glance to their car, he nodded and climbed into the ambulance.

As the doors shut, he caught sight if Ishval.

The man nodded to him, giving a salute, which he roughly sent back.

But for a split second, Wes swore to himself, his eyes gleamed red.

A small jerk and the ambulance took of, the sirens wailing. Tearing his eyes from the door, he looked back to Vernon. One medic requested his medical information, which Wes was all too happy to pass on.

The heart monitor beeped erratically, matching the rhythm of his mentors heart.

A few nasty corners and bruises later, they arrived at the hospital. The ambulance door practically ripped open and the medics rushed out, wheeling Vernon along.

Through the halls they went, meeting up with a tall, slightly elderly doctor. They disappeared though a pair of double doors.

Stopped there by a nurse, Wes stared.

All he could do now, was wait.

Voices.

He could hear them. One familiar, one fearful-or is it frightening?

Suddenly, pressure.

Thumps ring loudly.

Pain diluted all other senses.

An inaudible shout.

So many noises.

Thump, thump, thump.

Pounding in his ears.

Pain running through him.

Blurred visions pass by.

A voice, small but proud, chimes in the back of his mind. Not a single word rings clear.

Pressure, painful and long.

More words, shouting in the darkness.

His senses, though weak, tingle.

The bleakness becomes deeper.

There's no air.

More visions flash.

Bombs burst, people run, guns fire.

Flames tickle the sky.

Like a silent movie, the flew past, not a single noise in their wake.

Pressure.

Thump.

Gasp.

An fiery explosion, silent but deadly. Things around him blur into one.

Ground.

Dirt in his eyes.

His little voice speaks again, still inaudible.

A speck of green glistens.

Warm and inviting, but distant and wrong.

Shouting.

Everything shakes.

Abruptly, he's weightless.

The familiar voice, presence, is distant.

Wailing.

A voice breaks through, weak though it is.

Fool…

Darkness.

Silence.

Cold.

The voices tries to speak again, but is too weak, too far.

A small murmur, unrecognizable.

…..!

Pain.

Breath disappearing.

Thicker, the darkness nearly swallows him.

The small green light shines through it. Secluded and longing.

Images manifest.

Figures.

Blurry, yet nearly recognizable.

Then….

Air.

The murkiness lightens.

Sounds grow loud.

That voice tries one last time.

…

…

How easy it is to be forgotten.

Edward is still, a few paper laying around him.

They each differ, one of the chained woman, another of two small blond babies held by a darkened figure, a young man, bandaged and bloody, strange machines reminiscent of the one that hunted Sal and Thomas, a strange rag doll missing an eye and leg, and a paper full of foreign scribbles and symbols.

The some small chatter from the back. Oliver chuckles as Sal apologizes over the three broken dishes. Thomas can be heard tinkering away on a microwave oven, cursing everything he catches his finger in the door of it. The air conditioner buzzes.

It's all wrong.

He holds a new pencil, his broken on having been discarded, lest he use it to 'accidentally' hurt himself. He runs the tip lighting across the paper. It barely takes a thought, his hands work nearly by themselves. Three figures begin to form and turn into similar rag dolls. He sketches the roughly, then yanks the paper, dumping it on the floor. He starts again, another rag doll. This one is small and stripped.

He stops mid-way, his eyes distant.

Thomas gives a shriek as the sketchbook hurdles past him, smacking into the wall, then the floor. Both his grandfather and employee rush out to check on him. Angrily, he jumps up.

"I've had it with this freak!" He stated, grabbing his crutches. He wobbled, snatched up the sketch book and stormed past the two, over to where the boy now sat, curled against the wall. Thomas is next to him, muttering angrily as he picks up the papers off the floor, shoving them into the sketchbook, then swings the book, striking Edward right in the back of the head. The younger boy squeals and all but flies away from Thomas.

"Thomas!"

"No, Grandpa!" He counters. "I'm over this crap!"

Edward whimpers and Sal looks between the two. The brunette starts up again.

"What happened was a freak accident! Hell, maybe it was a hallucination!" He crooned. "Notice how NO news station has made a single report about some giant rampaging metal cat?"

Oliver shook his head. "A hallucination can't hurt you like you are."

Thomas glared and threw the book at Edward who screeched as it hit his leg. "I *fell!*" He states waving around one crutch. "And Sal could have easily scrapped himself when he jumped down, it not like sewers are a SAFE place to be!"

Sal fearfully bit back a comment.

"But this kid expects me to believe this-this CRAP he's been spewing?" He yanks a picture from the sketchbook, as Edward cowered. "Rag dolls? He wants us to believe we were *rag dolls* in our past life!"

"N-no…."

The three males looked over to the boy. Edward now clutch the sketchbook to his chest, not looking at anyone. He shook.

"N-not rag d-dolls…. Stitchpunks…"

Thomas only stared for a moment before swing back to the other two.

"Stitchpunks." He stated flatly. "How can you, for even one moment, believe this kid?"

"Anything is possible, Thomas." Oliver stated softly, with a small smile. "We've got no proof he's lying, my boy."

"Proof? He's a drug addict!" Thomas stormed Edward again, reaching into his pocket and yanking out a small orange pill bottle. The red-head's reaction was instant.

"GIVE IT BACK!" He howled, grabbing Thomas's arm. In surprise, the brunette gasped, losing his balance. Edward yanked the bottled from him and gave a large shove, sending Thomas tumbling roughly to the ground.

Oliver was at his grandsons side in mere seconds. Sal stood, gapping, unsure of what to do. Edward scooted as far away as he could, muttering.

"I need them, you can't take them, it makes it easier, I have to have them, it's too horrible, too wrong…You can't take them away…"

Thomas groan, his ankle throbbing in pain. "God…"

Oliver tried to help him up. "Come now, can you stand… There we go."

"I told you." Thomas is hissed finally, yanking his crutches and wobbling. "Don't trust him. Don't ever trust him."

He stormed away as best he could on his hurt ankle, only glancing back once, then hobbled up stairs.

Oliver watched with sadly and sighed.

Sal couldn't take it anymore, making up his mind. He walked stiffly past the old man, murmuring a small apology, that went up stairs.

"Thomas!" He called after the brunette. "Thomas, wait!" Sal placed a hand on his shoulder once he caught up. Thomas was quick to shake it back off.

"What do you want?" He snapped.

"I-I just… Why don't you believe or-or even consider what Edward says? Or what happened to us?"

Thomas glared. "It's really none of your business."

Sal faltered. "I want to understand." He said quietly.

"Understand?"

"Why… why you won't give Edward a chance? Maybe there is something big out there for us… It couldn't hurt, could it? Or, making things any worse…"

Thomas seemed to turn red. "Make things worse?"

"Uh…"

"Maybe they won't make things worse for YOU." Thomas whisper hoarsely. "But unlikely you, I have *everything* to lose."

Sal's eyes widened.

"Unlike YOU," Thomas continued. "I have one last bit of my family to lose."

He turned away.

"And I'm not risking him because some kid thinks the world needs us."

Claws clang against cement.

Red eyes gleamed.

It crouched, hidden in the shadows.

Unaware, people passed, their lives spared from the crossfire.

It closed in.

Target: Locked.

Objective: Retrieve Soul.

Slithering, is closed the distance between.

It leapt.

TBC

WHAT IS THIS? A NEW CHAPTER? WTF, DITTO, WTF. YOU HO, HOW DARE YOU WAIT SO LONG TO UPDATE, THEN GIVE THE PEOPLE A *CRUDDY* UPDATE? UNCOOL, DUDE, UNCOOOOOOL. XDDDD

Read and Review please~~~ 3

And SO-SO-SO sorry for the long ass wait guys! Things have been tough and my muse is like 'EFF THIS SH!T MAN, I'M OUTA HERE.' XPPPP

So, thank you ALL so much for you patience and understanding! YOU ALL ROCK! 333