Title: Spring Break

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Notes: Thank you for the reviews and alerts. I usually do not post unless I have a story completed- that way I am not keeping people waiting. I hope you all enjoy! I have to pay a little attention to another fandom I am in, but I will be back to play in this one, too.

Part 2

The helicopter couldn't come fast enough for Tus. He used all the butterflies that were in the kit, bandages and tape to cover the wound and attempt to make Dastan comfortable while they waited. He had Dastan leaning against him, watching as Garsiv burned the bodies.

Dastan would not allow himself to relax, nodding off, then jerking his head up to alertness. Tus had already reviewed the battle with him, and was now talking about his final year of law school and the nervousness of taking the BAR exam. He figured he would bore Dastan to sleep.

"You'll do fine, Tus, pass the first time and everything," Dastan replied to reassure the eldest Persia son.

"I'm sure I'll be asking you to repeat that many times to me." Tus cleared his throat. "Other than the scar you are going to have, did you find what you were searching for?" Garsiv and Tus had talked and had decided not to pressure Dastan into talking about his parents. Their younger brother was quiet on few subjects, his life on the street and his parents were two of them.

Dastan nodded, then winced. "When is that helicopter coming?"

"Any minute now, let's get to the meeting point."

Garsiv had finished, and between him and Tus they were able to gently maneuver Dastan to the drop off point.

"There was nothing identifying the vampires- no idea who they were, what they were doing here or what coven they belonged to." Garsiv growled. They tried to track vampires as much as to know where they were as to see what the population was doing as a whole. "Should we have the helicopter pilot take us directly to the hospital?"

"Yes," Tus answered.

"No," Dastan said at the same time.

"Two against one. You're going to the hospital," Garsiv stated.

The helicopter ride was grim as exhaustion started to hit Dastan from the blood loss. Garsiv gave Tus worried looks. Tus sent Garsiv with Dastan into the exam room at the hospital. He had another matter to deal with that was just as important.

His father answered on one ring as if he was expecting a phone call. "Tus?"

Tus walked outside of the emergency room. "Father, we're coming home."

"What happened?"

His father was calm, not surprised at the turn of events. "We didn't go to Padre Island. We went to Paraguay."

There was an audible sigh. "I know."

Tus ran a hand down his face. His father must have also known the reason they had gone to Paraguay. He didn't know about the dingy emergency room that they now found themselves in. "There were vampires and Dastan's injured."

"Injured? Where are you?"

"Coming home. He's getting stitched up and we're taking the private jet back," Tus explained. The plane was waiting at the airport and would return them to Texas.

"Is he able to travel-"

Tus could hear that his father was trying to control himself and not come to Paraguay himself. "He will. We just want to leave here." It had been harrowing- first keeping the secret, then the battle and the resulting injury. It was a lot of pressure that Tus was not ready for.

"Okay, Tus. Take care of your brothers and I will see you soon."

Tus was not surprised to see their father waiting for them at the airport. Garsiv helped Dastan down the stairs, Tus kept a steadying arm on Dastan's elbow. The car had been pulled up as close as possible to the stairs.

"How is he?" Their father reached out to the injured Persia son.

"I'm fine," Dastan mumbled, stumbling slightly on the last step down.

"High on painkillers," Garsiv answered. "He had a whole conversation with his blanket."

"It was shiny," Dastan defended himself, hugging his ribs, as if the motion would help his back as he gingerly sat in the car.

Tus shut the door, and took the front seat, leaving Garsiv and Father to take the back along with Dastan. Tus turned around to see Dastan had let his head drop back, mouth open and eyes closed.

"I'll call a doctor to the house to check him over." Father's eyes studied Dastan then his other sons.

"Father, you probably want an explanation," Tus said.

Garsiv cleared his throat. They had a discussion on the plane with Garsiv trying to come up with a better story than the truth or at least avoid talking by drawing attention to the fact that Dastan had been injured. Garsiv was about working the sympathy angle.

"I do, but I am glad you came home safe." Father tapped Garsiv's knee. "We will talk about the rest later."

(((()))))

Dastan had a two day reprieve before having to talk to his father.

Garsiv had stayed by his side during that time like an overprotective watchdog. Back in his room Dastan had spiked a fever that had Garsiv worried enough that he stopped teasing Dastan, and made some outrageous promises about a Ferrari and a supermodel. He hoped his younger brother would not remember.

"Hey," Garsiv heard and jolted awake. He hadn't realized he had dozed off. Dastan's blue eyes were open, alert.

"You're awake," Garsiv answered, he moved the overstuffed chair forward.

"You were sleeping in the chair." Dastan pushed himself up, then noticed the IV line and frowned.

"Tus and Father needed their beauty rest, but I can get away with it." He rubbed a hand through his hair. Tus and Father had checked in regularly. Tus was becoming obsessed to discover the coven the Paraguay vampires' origin, he had to focus on something he thought he could control.

"I don't know about that." Dastan pointed to the IV line. "What's the verdict?"

"You're an idiot, but you're going to be fine." The first IV had been to keep Dastan hydrated, and the second was an antibiotic. Luckily, they did not have to make a trip to the hospital, a benefit of their persistent and wealthy father who could have a doctor rush at any time of day to the Persia home.

Dastan picked at the blankets, avoiding eye contact. "And what does Father know?" he asked in a hushed tone.

They all got into trouble, but Dastan took it the hardest when he did something that he thought would disappoint their father. "He knew we never went to Padre Island."

Dastan shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten you and Tus involved."

"Stop apologizing. We wouldn't have let you go alone." Dastan had told Garsiv first about his idea. Garsiv understood immediately, and convinced Tus to make it an adventure, one that was chaperoned by the eldest and responsible Persia son. Tus had asked Dastan to talk to their father, but Dastan refused because as Garsiv figured, he didn't want their father to believe Dastan did not appreciate him. "You called out for them-your mom and dad. Guess they were on your mind."

There was a framed picture of Dastan's parents by his bedside; a young couple both with blue eyes. Dastan turned to gaze at it. "Guess so."

Garsiv was becoming uncomfortable with the silence. "I should tell Father and Tus you're awake." He placed a hand under his nose. "You should also think about cleaning up."

Dastan raised his brows, then wrinkled his nose as he realized his stagnant scent. "You should get some sleep, too. Thanks."

Garsiv gave his brother a two fingered, jaunty, military salute. It was a relief that his brother was better and would recover as the doctor had repeatedly mentioned. He set out to find Tus and Father and report the good news, happy Dastan had forgotten his earlier promises of a Ferrari and supermodel. There were some adventures that he did not share with his brothers.

(((()))))

Garsiv was right- Dastan smelled fetid with a distinct mix of Paraguay and sweat. He pushed the sheet off, then gave a glance to the IV. It was empty, the antibiotics running their course and the glucose pressing on his bladder with urgency.

He made a decision to pull the IV line out, huffing at the sensation, but he still needed the pole to make his way to the bathroom. He leveraged his position, hoping there was another set of boxers on the shelf. It took hesitant steps, but he made it, although he didn't think he could stand for a shower. There was also the issue of the stitches he felt pulling; he surmised they couldn't get wet.

Best thing he could do was use the sink and a towel, and feel lucky that there was a set of boxers. He was surprised when he made his way out of the bathroom to find his father waiting for him.

"You're supposed to be in bed," his father said, going to the other side where he did not have support.

"The bathroom seemed doable," Dastan answered.

"Always pushing yourself, Dastan, just like Tus and Garsiv."

Dastan snorted at his father's comment. Sharaman was constantly in motion, and challenging himself, stunning others with his acumen.

His father chuckled. "I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Dastan looked away from his father when he reached the bed. He was adopted, and now more than ever he felt the loss of his parents, and the gratitude that he was fortunate to be taken in by Sharaman Persia. "Father, it's my fault. Tus and Garsiv went along with my plan so any punishment or blame is mine." When they were children punishment took the form of additional training, but as they got older punishment was facing their father's disappointment. He wanted to spare his brothers.

Sharaman sat on the edge of the bed, frowning at the IV tubing that was hanging from the pole before he gave Dastan his full attention. "If you had talked to me, I would have taken you."

"They are my parents, and I can't remember much about them or what they sound like." He glanced at the picture his father had surprised him with not long after he had been welcomed in the Persia household. It was a moment in time, and that picture is what came up when he thought about his parents, no other image.

"I see." Sharaman picked up the picture.

Dastan wanted to say so much, but it was all a jumble in his mind, "You raised me, but my parents. . ."

"Will always be your parents, Dastan. I could never replace them." His father placed his hand on the frame as if he was swearing to a higher being.

"But, I've been with you more than I'd ever been with them." It was Dastan's guilt talking- he had been spared first with his parents, then with his aunt and settled with a wealthy and loving family. Sometimes though he wondered what his life would have been like with his parents- what would he have become with his parent's unconditional love? There was always a bit of doubt with being taken in by Sharaman that he could easily be given up, too.

"And that bothers you," his father placed a warm hand on his leg. "I've been a parent for a long time now, Dastan. Your parents would want you to live and do good. That's what I would want."

Dastan nodded. Deep inside he knew that was true, but it was difficult when so much had happened to him. His parents were missionaries; would they have expected the same of him?

"They watch over you when your brothers and I cannot. For that I am thankful and maybe they arranged that we would find each other. "

He had never heard his father talk like this, most of the time Sharaman focused on telling them stories about hard work and persevering. "You're talking about destiny, Father."

"Yes, Dastan, it is fate that you grow into a man of great character and strength." His father squeezed his leg, and stood up to leave.

Dastan yawned; being awake had made him groggy even though his injury just felt sore, than painful. "I guess Uncle is going to insist on more training."

"Once you are better he'll work with you, rest assured." Sharaman winked. "But for now you are supposed to be resting. I'll have some food send up."

"So you're aren't upset?" Dastan was expecting yelling, not his father talking to him.

Sharaman shook his head. "I'm upset that my sons tried to hide this from me."

Dastan rolled his eyes- he would have to discuss with his brothers their secret plans in the future. "We didn't do too good of a job with that."

His father crossed his arms. "I'll give you the same lecture I gave your brothers, but it won't be until tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir." Dastan scooted down further in his bed as he was chastised, but he had tomorrow with his family. He turned to his nightstand and saw the picture of his aunt and parents-they would always be there. Everyone had set high expectations for him, and he had to do his best to meet them.

The end