† WARPATH [INVITE] †

[Sawyer]

[against_peace][/against_peace]
D A Y 1
WEARING

S A W Y E R

I can’t do this without him.
Goddamnit, Ephraim. **** you.
Raking her fingers through her hair, she tried to untangle the mess of chocolate as they knotted around her knuckles, though it was to no avail. She tried to tell herself that it was the sharp pull against her scalp that brought the fresh wave of tears to her eyes, but she knew that it was a ******* lie. As much as she hated showing that sign of weakness, of wearing it against her pale skin for all to see, she couldn’t control it. The tears had long since stained her cheeks, and it didn’t matter how often she brushed her hands against her cheeks, the tracks against her flesh remained. It wasn’t as if she had gone into this blind or uneducated. She knew the dangers, and she had known that one of them would fall.

She had just always thought it’d be her.

It made sense. She was weaker of the two. Her body hadn’t been able to withstand the damage she had done to it before she had met him. She was uncontrolled, wild. So, how the **** was she the one still standing? It was fucked up. He should be here. He was the one with the ******* cause. She was no one. Her only reason for ******* being was him. He was fueled with righteousness. She was fueled by hatred. He was everything ******* good – and she was the epitome of wicked. It didn’t matter how long she had sat at the table, her fingers peeling away bits of wood from the surface, he wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t walk back through that door, toss her that secret smile, and take her to bed.

Slamming her hands against the table, she suddenly shoved her chair back with enough force to send it crashing into the wall. “****!” The single word exploded from her glossed lips with the force of her pain and anger behind it, and within seconds, she heard Jenna’s door open and the sound of her boots echoing off the thin walls as she rushed to the kitchen. “Sawyer! What’s wrong?” The question was simple, and as she met the sorcerer’s eyes, she realized it was her fault. She had taken her from their sanctuary when the assault had happened. She had been the one to lock her up and leave Ephraim to fight them alone. With that thought in her mind, she acted without thinking.

One moment, Jenna had been in front of her, hands reaching to curl around the trembling paladin’s shoulders, and the next, she was across the room, her small form slumping to the floor. “How the **** could you ask that? He’s gone, and you let it ******* happen!” It only took Jenna second to clear her head, and as she scrambled back to her feet, she saw the true culprit to this sudden shift in the paladin. Behind her on the kitchen counter, laying open and empty, was the bottle of tequila that had been tucked beneath her bed – and the metal pill box Ephraim had confiscated the night they had found the girl. “No, no. Sawyer, it’s not like that. He—“ [/color]

Her words were cut off as the paladin brushed past her, the heavy door slamming shut behind her with enough power to rattle the windows and send a few pictures crashing to the floor. “****, this isn’t going to go over well at all. I’m so dead,” the sorcerer hissed as she grabbed her jacket and pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans. Without bothering to lock the door behind her, she rushed into the night after Sawyer, her fingers frantically typing out a warning to Osmund.

[T] Sawyer’s relapsed. It’s my fault. She’s gone. I’m trying to find her now, but she’s on a suicide mission. Keep him contained!



<<E P H R A I M + S T E E L E>>

In truth, he didn’t remember getting there. He didn’t remember much beyond the flash of pain and a darkness that descended upon him in a hurry. Most of the last few nights had been little more than trading pain. He vaguely remembered hiding out in an abandoned penthouse apartment, before they were attacked and he and Sawyer had been separated. That was when he’d landed in the Theater, and that was when he and the vampire had found one another.

Sawyer.

The thought of her brought his eyes open, and the world crashed into him all at once. The pain was immeasurable, almost unbearable if not for the mask of the morphine that had been veiled over the intense agony that coursed through him. Shocking blue eyes drifted lazily to the machine at his side, where he saw blood being pumped into his veins. That was when he realized where he had landed himself. He would have laughed, were he not filled with the agony of his recovery and the worry over Sawyer that ate at him. He tried to sit up, and only managed a pained grunt that ended in his falling back to the bed. He was feeling better every moment, but so slowly that he could only barely notice.

It was then that he heard the old Nokia chirp, and he knew that Osmond was there with him. His presence only made him worry more. If he had expected to wake to anyone, it would have been to Sawyer. He sighed, and through eyes squinted in pain, he turned his gaze to the old sorcerer as he tapped slowly at the ancient phone. “Sawyer?” he asked through a groggy cloud of pain and morphine. The elderly man held up a single finger as the other continued to steadily tap at the solid buttons of the tiny brick of a phone, until he was finished with his text. Finally, steely grey eyes turned to the paladin, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes spreading across his face.

“Jenna. Sawyer is with her, Ephraim. You need to rest. They will be here when Sawyer is feeling better. Jenna is seeing to her as we speak.” The old man was careful to tiptoe around the truth, carefully navigating his way through the information that he knew would only cause the man in front of him distress, would only make his whole situation worse. Healing was a difficult process for the average man. The amount of damage that this man had been able to withstand before he had collapsed absolutely astounded Osmond. The physical prowess of the paladin had surprised him; shocked him, even. It had become clear to him that what Ephraim had become was just another blur of the line between man and monster.

He doubted, however, that the man could see that; that he would understand.

Ephraim’s arm felt like lead, a heavy trunk of a tree attached to the muscle of his shoulder as he lifted his hand to push long strands of sandy blonde hair from his face. He had been cleaned, the wounds he’d sustained were dressed and healing, thought he amount of blood he was still missing left him weak, the potent combination of missing blood and the drugs that helped him deal with the pain that burned at every one of his nerves left him dizzy and unaware of a great portion of his surroundings. He felt sluggish and unfit to properly call himself awake. He had heard the old man, though, and was thankful that the old codger was there to give him news, even if it was slow in coming. At least he knew that Sawyer had made it out alright, and that she was with Jenna.

The sorceress might’ve been tiny, but she was skilled. He was sure that she would have Sawyer right in no time, that she would be safely here, and he could see for himself that she was doing okay. He felt an urge to curse, and suppressed it with a growl beneath his breath. The only reason they were separated at all was because of them. The blood-filching sub-human garbage that had somehow stuck to their boots on their way through the city. He knew about the ability to track his own prey, the way that his own power worked, and it only made sense that the vampire monsters had their own abilities to hunt them down. He should have expected it, and prepared.

He would still be well, and Sawyer would have been fine by now.

Lazily, he let his eyes drift to the clock, then, and gauged the time. He began counting seconds, passing the time until she was there. His hand idly groped for his phone before he remembered that he was in a hospital, and that his things had likely been taken. He frowned, and turned to the old man sitting in the corner of his room. “Osmond, bring me my phone.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the man’s face go so white.

S A W Y E R

For someone so intoxicated, she moves quick, Jenna thought as she hurried down the broken pavement that lined the streets outside of their apartment. They didn’t live in the most beautiful of places, but despite Sawyer’s displeasure – and distrust for the structure – it was home. Jenna knew every shadow, every corner, and every crevice like the back of her hand. There wasn’t a place that the younger woman could hide that she wouldn’t be able to seek her out, which explained why she had nearly stumbled upon the downed brunette.

“Sawyer, please,” she whispered as she reached out, her fingers curling against the nape of her neck. She could feel the sweat that coated her skin, causing her to cringe. It was worse than she thought. She had expected her to spiral – but this, none of them could ever had anticipated this. When she was certain that she wouldn’t run again, she stepped around her and dropped to her knees, her fingers moving to grasp at her frail shoulders.

“He’s not dead, Sawyer. I should have explained that sooner. He’s still alive. Osmund is with him---“

Whatever she had thought to say after that was silenced as the paladin lifted her head, her gaze bright with the heavy dose of drugs pulsing through her system, and as wild as she had ever seen them. She wasn’t highly religious – if anything, she was more on level with the girl she now watched, fear etching across her features – but she swore she saw the devil come to life in her eyes in that moment.

“He’s alive?” It was hard for her to push the words out, her throat aching from the burn of alcohol and swallowed bile. As soon as the words were breathed into the air, the scent of her breath causing the sorcerer to cover her mouth, she lifted herself to her feet. She had left with one direction in mind – to avenge her man – but now, she had to see him. She had to touch him, to know for herself that the ***** wasn’t lying to her. As she stood to her full height, she felt the world shift beneath her, the buildings blurring together as she tossed her hands out, fingers digging into the brick next to her. “****.”

Once she was certain she wouldn’t find herself on her *** again, she made to step around the sorcerer, only to come to a stop when she felt her restraining hand on her chest. “You can’t. Not like this.” Her voice was sharp, and Sawyer heard the conviction within it. She thought to stop her, to keep her away from the one reason she had to exist. It would have been amusing, had it not triggered the demon that lurked within her heart. Without warning, she lifted her hand, damp fingers curling around her slender wrist. She watched the fear enter the blonde’s eyes as she peeled her hand from her chest, the bone cracking beneath her grasp.

[color=A62D4D] “I’m getting really ******* tired of you telling me what to do,” [/color] she growled, the sound so feral, she watched the color drain from her friend’s face. She could only nod as she fought the tears, her broken wrist still captured. She didn’t try to fight her, nor did she move when her hand was suddenly dropped, the sudden throb causing her to cry out. “I’m glad we’re clear.” She didn’t bother to ask for directions as she gave the blonde a wide berth and headed into the city, leaving the woman behind to try and salvage what she could of her massive ****-up. Cradling her arm against her chest, she tucked her phone between her chin and shoulder, Osmund’s number already dialed.

When he picked up, she swallowed the tears and hoped they didn’t reflect in her voice as she watched the woman’s retreat with worry. “I couldn’t control her. She’s on her way, and she – just stay out of her way, old man. That’s all I can offer now. She thought he was dead.”


<<E P H R A I M + S T E E L E>>

If the old man’s face had been white before he had answered the phone, he looked like a living corpse when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. He watched the man’s visible rise and fall from panic, back into his cool, level-headedness as he attempted to navigate another minefield in an already explosive situation. He nodded his head and gave a longsuffering sigh as he turned his back to Ephraim and moved to place a hand against the door of the man’s room. “Just see to it that the pansies make it where they are going. I know they are in good hands, but they are fragile flowers. I don’t want them to get to their rightful owners in poor condition, or it’s going to look bad for our business, understand?”

He paused for a moment, without really listening before he spoke without waiting or really even discerning if there were any words being spoken on the other end of the line. “Good. See to it.” He brooked no argument, his finger tapping the End key, and he turned back to the man in the bed. His face became a smile, then, as he moved to resume his seat. “Sorry about that. Shipment of pansies gone awry. We have to stay on top of these things, or they’ll get out of hand, you know.” He widened his smile as he pocketed his phone, weathered fingers folding together in a bony steeple as he leaned toward the man’s bed. Cloudy eyes that had begun to show their age looked the man over, a sort of sadness filling them as he watched the way the other breathed. Every moment was full of thinly veiled agony.

Ephraim’s cold eyes finally looked away from the old man, unable to see the pity in his gaze. He was incapable of accepting pity, of accepting any form of compassion, really, when it came to this situation. This was what he had come to Harper Rock for. He had known that it would not be easy; that there was a good chance that he wouldn’t walk away from the city alive. That he had only landed in the hospital was lucky, considering the nature of his foe and the injuries that he had sustained. He was baffled that he had come away at all, with any blood to speak of. That much, he was thankful for. He lived to fight another day, and only by the grace of God was he able to consider his situation at all.

He grunted in pain as he lifted himself up, finally, and let his cool gaze move over the room, searching for his things. “That’s fine, Osmond, but you didn’t give me the phone. I’d like to talk to Sawyer.” The old man waved his hand idly as he shook his head. “They took your things, Ephraim. They’re neatly packed in a little box and put away in a locker. They don’t know you like I know you. They fully expected you dead before the night was out. I tried to tell them to leave your things, but they wouldn’t have it. Thought I was trying to steal from you. Most ridiculous thing I’ve ever had to deal with. Absolutely absurd.” He gave a grumble of irritation as he gave the young man a shrug of his tired, stooped shoulders. “She will be here soon enough. It turns out Jenna needs a visit with the doctor. She apparently had a little mishap and broke her wrist. They won’t be too long now, I’m sure.”

He could see Ephraim visibly calm, sinking back into his bed as he gave a light nod, eyes turning away to watch the monitor that they had hooked up to him. It was clear, by the way that he was already moving in the bed, that he would be up and on his feet by the morning. Nothing, it seemed, would hold the man down. He would be back on the streets in a week, Osmond had no doubts.

S A W Y E R
In her state of destruction, she didn’t think twice about stepping into the city alone and unprotected. While she could still feel the weight of the sword against her spine, she knew that it wouldn’t be enough to stop an assault, should they find her. It didn’t bother her, however. In fact, as she stumbled down the beaten path towards the hospital, she welcomed them. Whatever hope she had going into this had been ripped from her when she had woken to the dying light of the day without him at her side. In a few short weeks, he had managed to twist himself into heart, to fill the fissures with a light that she had thought she’d never witness.

That light turning dim, now.

Running her fingers through her dampened curls, she gave a low groan as she felt that familiar twist in her stomach, the one that warned her she was a second from losing her dinner. Of course, she couldn’t remember the last time she had consumed something that didn’t have a alcohol content. When she felt the pressure rise up her chest, she stumbled into the alley at her side and doubled over, one arm pressed to her stomach as the other braced against the garbage bin, her weight forming a dent as she tasted the tequila as it spewed from her lips. With each heave, the darkened liquid splashed against the ground, and by the grace of god, somehow missed the white of her shoes all together. Not that she truly gave a ****.

She didn’t care for material things. The only reason she didn’t want them ruined was because waltzing into the hospital smelling of vomit and alcohol wouldn’t garner her any favor with the nurses. She knew the moment they took one look at her already, they would probably turn her away – and she truly wasn’t prepared to hurt some little old woman just trying to do her job. Like Jenna, her conscience taunted as she lifted herself to her full height and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The scene was all too familiar – except this time, there would be no bearded God to step into the mouth of the alley and whisk her to safety.

This time, she was alone.

Once she was certain she wouldn’t have another episode, she gathered her hair in a loose fist and brought it over her shoulder, the thick strands catching in the light to reflect the tint of purple that remained from the most recent dye attempt. She hated the natural color – but he loved it. He would admire the way the colors shifted in the light, and it was enough for her. Not that she would ever admit such a thing, especially to him. He already looked at her with an emotion she wasn’t ready to put a name to – though, if he meant he’d stay with her, that he wouldn’t let those wretched fucks take her from him, she’d let him do whatever he wanted.

Stepping from the alley, she staggered her way down the sidewalk again, cerulean eyes attempting to make out the blinding lights of the signs to find the bright red that told her she was headed in the right direction. Making it to the corner of Bullwood, she made to step into the street when a shout suddenly broke the silence of the night, the voice feminine and strained – a second before she felt the burn of the bullet as it slammed into her thigh. The echo of the gun echoed off the buildings as she collapsed with a cry, one hand pressing to the ground as the other curled around her sword. Freeing it from its scabbard, she swung when she heard the steady approach, the blade meeting nothing but air as the vampire disappeared.

[Ephraim Steele]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

S A W Y E R
“******* coward,” she spat, her hand curling around her thigh as the sound of Jenna’s heels reached her ears. The woman reached for her the second she made to stand, her eyes wide with worry and contempt as she glared into the shadows. “You’re okay. It’s okay, Sawyer. Can you walk? I healed my wrist – I didn’t think you’d need help.” Her voice was rushed as she steadied the woman and lead her to the door where a nurse was already waiting, her skin pale and eyes wide with shock at the sight of the paladin. “I just want to see Ephraim. I’m fine,” she snapped, voice slurred as she stepped around the prone nurse, her stared sightlessly at where the vampire had stood.

Ignoring the pain that pulsed with each step, she navigated the halls until she heard the gruff sound of the weathered sorcerer’s voice, her brow raising at the mention of pansies. Any other night, and she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his cover-up – and the ease at which Ephraim accepted it. However, tonight wasn’t one of those times. With force she didn’t need to use, she slammed the door open and staggered inside, ignoring the blood that soaked the thick material of her tanned jeans as she made her way towards his side, her eyes unfocused. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that, old ****,” she said without so much as looking from the prone paladin, her body swaying as she leaned to press her hand to his cheek, unaware of the blood that soaked her palm. “You’re alive.”

<<E P H R A I M + S T E E L E>>
He could almost feel her before he could see her, but he certainly heard her first. The clamor she made as she surged through the hall like a thunderhead was enough to have him sitting up. She was a storm untamed as she burst through the door, all growls and glares until she stood at his side, the warmth of her hand against his cheek surprising; almost hot. His own hand lifted to hers, grasping her gently as he looked up into her eyes, seeing there the dance of all things that were wrong in the world, crashing down on her at once.

He could see the alcohol, the drugs, the pain, the panic, the rage. He could see as each of them took its turn in her eyes, the way her features twisted and moved, unable to settle on one expression, unable to decide exactly how it was that she felt. He frowned, and squeezed her hand as he looked up at her, his other hand rising to lay over her shoulder, pulling her down to him as he pulled her hand from his face, her blood left behind on his cheek. “I am fine, Sawyer. You could have called the old man before you dove into the deep end.” His voice was a rough whisper as he squeezed her shoulder in his grasp, holding her in place as he shook his head, offering a scoff at the pain that surged through him with the movement as he sat himself upright.

“But you are here, now, and that is what matters. Stay. Jenna and Osmond can see to cleaning you up, and when you’re thinking a little clearer, you can understand why it’s so incredibly offensive that you would even think I had let the vampire filth take me out. It’s going to take a lot more out of a lot more of them to get rid of me, Sawyer. I want you to stay, and I want you to get your mind right, girl. This isn’t over, and I think that you know that, deep down. This is only just beginning, and we’re obviously not as ready as we had hoped. We’ve made a few new friends, and several of them are here with us. We should talk with them, soon. When more of us are ready to leave this place. We will need the help of more like ourselves if we’re going to really make a difference.” He sighed, out of breath as he clutched at the shoulder of her shirt, and looked deeply into her eyes. He leaned into his hold, pressing his brow to hers as he looked at her.

“I want justice, Sawyer. I want vengeance. And I want you there to see it through. Get clean. Get your mind clear, and get ready. They aren’t going to wait around for us forever.” He tightened his grip, his fingers stretching the fabric of her shirt tight across her abdomen, threatening to rip the fabric in his moment of fury. “I need you right now. I need you. Not this. I need Sawyer, the warrior, not Sawyer, the useless drunk. Toss out whatever booze you have left and let Jenna get you ready. Osmond will help you detox…” he let his steely gaze flick to the old man, not offering him a moment’s chance to object as he steamrolled over whatever words the man might have offered. It was clear that his ire was turned upon all of them.

“This is where things start to get hard. I need you all at your best.”

S A W Y E R
The second his gaze found hers, she knew what he saw. It was reflected in his eyes, the disheveled state she had found herself in. She remained quiet beneath his stare, his eyes traveling across her tasseled hair, to the sheen of sweat on her forehead before he finally found her own chaotic gaze. They had darkened with her emotions, and she knew when he took note of the familiar, intoxicated fog that covered the blue by the sudden shift in his expression. The warmth he had once radiated – if only for a second – vanished, and the mask fell into place. He wasn’t the man that shared her bed, he was her commander, and she felt herself pulling away.

He didn’t give her a chance to remove herself physically, and instead, he curled his arm around her shoulders and brought her down against him, her leg digging into the thin mattress. The pain had her crying out between clenched teeth, and she quickly shifted her position to lighten the pressure against the wound before the bullet became permanently lost within the muscle. “**** you,” she hissed between her teeth as her eyes flashed with intoxicated defiance, “You don’t get to ******* judge me. Not today. No one told me a goddamned thing. I woke alone, and you were gone. You didn’t answer your phone, I couldn’t find you. I went back, and all I saw was your blood everywhere.” Her voice rose with each word until she was shouting, earning a sharp glare from the ancient sorcerer.

She tried to untangle herself from his limbs, to stumble back and retreat in the darkness that pressed down on like a landslide, but his hold was too strong. Even near death, his power was undisputable. It was then, as he continued to lecture her, his grasp only tightening, that she took complete stock of his wounds. Most seemed to be centered in one location, and she couldn’t help the sinful thought that sprouted in her mind. It only lasted for a second before it vanished, and that oppressing weight once more pressed against her chest. “I’m here,” she whispered, her fingers pressing through his hair and curling into the blonde. She pressed her fist to the side of his skull, her eyes searching his before she dared a kiss to his lips, the tension evident within the attention before she growled.

“Just shut up, boss,” she sighed, her pain clear as she finally managed to pull back – only to turn and scoot herself onto the bed at his side. “I know they’re not going to let this go, and neither am I. I’m not going to worry about cleaning up, because I’m going to find them, and I’m going to hurt them – even if they kill me.” Even as she said the words, she was already closing her eyes, a mask of pure calm descending upon her. She didn’t know his name – there was no way for either side to pick their names out – but she knew his face. It was that face she brought to mind, now, and it was that face that she sent the power towards. She never knew what happened, she never saw the blow land, but she knew it did. When she opened her eyes, there was a look of pure exhaustion about her, her eyes almost dull as she fell back against the inch of pillow she now shared with him. She was careful not to disrupt him as she shifted, her shaking hands pressing to her thigh that steadily bled. “I love that nifty little power that Jenna taught me.”

Her voice tired, now, she almost allowed herself a moment to rest – and then his words came back to haunt her. Useless drunk. Her jaw tensed, fingers twisting into the blanket beneath her a shudder coursed through her. “I’m sorry I’m so ******* useless to you, Ephraim,” she snapped, voice wavering as she glared into his eyes. “Maybe you should just find someone else to ****.” It didn’t occur to her that Osmond hadn’t the a clue as to their relationship, so when she heard his sharp intake of breath as he surged to his feet, she snapped her attention to his direction, watching as he advanced.


<<E P H R A I M + S T E E L E>>
Shaking his head, he held up his hand as Osmond advanced, his hands irritated fists as his hips as he threatened to spill into a tirade that, frankly, they didn’t have the time for. Not now. His eyes turned to Sawyer and his jaw twitched with that tic as he lifted his hand to scratch at his beard. “Sawyer, hush. When you’re drunk, you can barely hold a kitchen knife, much less swing a sword with any proper accuracy. Getting yourself killed is about the only thing you will accomplish. Just stop, and think before you go fly off the handle.” He gave a gentle sigh and reached to take her hand.

“None of this is about who is ******* who, as you so eloquently put it, this is about our survival. About eradicating these monsters so that the rest of the world might live in peace. I want that world for you as much as I want it for anyone. If I can’t know that you’d be here to see it, then what would be the point in any of it, Sawyer? I’m alive, and I can see that you are, too. Getting yourself killed isn’t going to do anything. It won’t do anything but hurt people that actually care about you. This is the time I need you to think. A clear head is going to be a lot more use to you than a bottle of tequila and a bottle full of pills.”

He lifted a brow and cut her off before she could say anything. “Don’t think I didn’t know exactly what you would be getting into. Like I don’t know you. What’s done is done, and there’s nothing that I can do about that now.” He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close, his lips finding the corner of her mouth as he pushed a kiss to her face. “I need a reason to keep caring about the rest of the world Sawyer. You are that reason. So let’s all get ourselves pulled together, because we’re going to need one another. We need to be talking to the rest of the people on this floor, the ones that were with us in the lab. They can help us.”

He sighed, and lifted her hand in both of his, pushing a firm kiss to the back of her hand. “You and I can stand on top of the world together, Sawyer. We can see this through to the end, you and I. But we have a lot of hard work ahead of us, if we’re going to do this. I need you here, I need your clear mind, uninfluenced by what you’ve put into yourself. And I need you in one piece. Okay?” He squeezed her hand and pressed another kiss to her lips. He knew that she understood. He just wasn’t sure that she would listen, before it was too late. “Don’t think that I missed your leg. I saw that when you came in. You’re already getting shot up in the streets. You’re safer right here, with me. Where you should be.” He gave a sigh, and gently gave her another squeeze with his palm as his eyes searched hers.

“We have a real shot at ending them, together. We can actually make a difference here.”

S A W Y E R
The rage that darkened the elder man’s face would have been laughable, had he not have looked as if he were one step from a heart-attack. When Ephraim held up his hand, stalling his advance, she was certain the man would have continued on his rampage, yet he stopped. In fact, the instant his hand was in the air, the sorcerer seemed to turn to stone. Were in not for the color still darkening his gruff cheeks, or the narrowing of his eyes, she would have thought he had forgotten what he was doing. Any other time, and she would have called him on it. Instead, she forced her curious search from his features to focus on Ephraim as he started to speak once more. She knew the moment he parted his lips, whatever he had to say would be familiar to her, the many lectures he delivered holding the same tone, despite the word change.

“Right, so let’s see how you do when you have no idea where I am, or if I’m alive or dead. Don’t think for a second I don’t know you have your own stash,” she countered, eyes flashing with annoyance as she shook her head. She knew getting into this with him was wrong. Opening herself up to him, ******* him, it had been a mistake. He thought he controlled her before – now he had her wrapped around his goddamned finger. Just the thought of him hurt nearly did her head in, and now she had to pay for her choices. She knew it was pointless to point out that it was her mind, her body, and her consequences. It didn’t affect him – he didn’t feel the sluggish pull of her muscles, or the adrenaline coursing through her veins. He didn’t feel as if the world was pushing down around her, threatening to suffocate her beneath its weight. He hadn’t a ******* clue what she went through when she woke up and he wasn’t there, arm around her, holding her close as the sun rose just outside.

Snapping her teeth together, she ignored the betrayal in her body as his lips brushed against hers, and instead chose to focus on the numbers on his monitor. She knew he had a point – he almost always did, and she knew somewhere within his dialogue, he was expressing his feelings for her. He never came outright and said as much – especially not with Osmond just outside of their private bubble, his face clouded as he practically glared holes through Ephraim’s skull, but she could hear it between each rough word. She didn’t have to be sober to know what he was saying held an inkling of truth to it. His entire purpose was to eradicate the wicked so she could live again, so he could have the life he deserved, so their kind were safe. It all came down to those simple things, and she ******* hated that he was so goddamned right about it.

“I hear you,” she began, even as she pressed her boot to the tile, her body ready to slide from the bed. When his lips touched hers once more, she pressed into the kiss, holding it for a moment as her fingers slowly loosened their fist in his hair. “I can’t let this go, Steele. Fucked up or not, they deserve to pay.” Her words were harsh as she finally stood from the bed, weight held on her healthy leg as she ran her fingers through his hair. “You want this world for me, for us, and I get that. I do, too, but you don’t get to dictate how I handle it, or how I play my part in it. You’re right, I was careless, I fucked up – but I got this. I’ve been by your side fucked before, and I never missed a beat. The only difference is you won’t be there this time.” Taking a step back, she was careful to dodge the outstretched hand she knew was coming for her, the one she was certain would snag her and pull her back.

Already, she could see the anger in his eyes, and she knew she had to act fast before he started pulling the wires from his body. “I’ll join you soon, baby,” she started to smile, her attention locked on what she presumed was the only threat in the room. It was her last mistake of the day. Just as she took a step back, she felt the familiar sting of the needle as a burn unlike any other she’d experienced pulsed through her veins. Before she knew what had happened, before she could even so much as twitch a finger, she succumbed to the drug, her slender form collapsing into the waiting arms of the sorcerer.

<<E P H R A I M + S T E E L E>>
Watching the woman stand, Ephraim gave a longsuffering sigh. He knew what needed to be done, that the approach he was taking was having little effect, that Sawyer was repulsed by exerting authority, which made everything entirely too difficult. He almost felt like he had to have two briefings for everything they did, the same conversation twice, just to get the point across, because the minute anyone sounded like they might be in charge, she immediately shut herself down and stopped caring about what was being said, so much as rebelling against the established leadership. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing full well that the mitigating circumstances behind her reasons were enough to keep him from being truly upset with her, that his exasperation was with himself, knowing that she would react this way and sticking to his guns anyway.

He could always hope that one day she would see that he was the same person on both sides of that coin.

He smoothed down his beard with a hand as he settled back into his seat, when the old man stepped up behind her, a long, slender needle jabbed effortlessly into her neck. The clear liquid vanished in an instant, and her eyes were hooded before she could take another breath. Ephraim’s glare turned on the man with the true bite of his name. “Was that really necessary, old man? She would have stayed. I had it under control, if you would have stayed out of it, you know. If you do anything like that again, and I’m able to get out of this bed, they’ll be admitting you to wire your jaw back together, understand?” The old man just gave a knowing smile and nodded, “I am aware that she would have stayed, Ephraim, but she would not have rested. She would not have allowed us to care for her, we both know that. Now, Jenna and I can take care of her, and see that she is ready.”

The small, slender blonde behind him opened her bright blue eyes and gave a quick nod, though she was clearly against the methods the man employed, she knew that he was right, and she was prepared to do her part. She would have mentioned that there were teas, or even more natural, more subtle ways of doing what he had done, but she realized that they hadn’t the time or the convenience of circumstance to enact any of those things. She resigned herself to waiting, as she watched the two men glare at one another.

Finally, Ephraim sighed, and helped the old man to lay her down in his bed, taking care to keep her from tangling herself in the wires that connected him to the machines. They would be useless in the morning, provided they did their job. He turned and placed a tender kiss to the now slumbering brunette’s temple. “This time, I will be here when you wake up.” He smiled, and rested his chin on the top of her head, his hand gently stroking her hair as he allowed himself to finally let the drugs that they had given him flush through him, his own eyes becoming leaden as he settled into sleep.

[Esli Barnes]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

“See! I told you he was coming out of it. And he isn’t happy. Watch his hands.”

That was the first words Esli heard when he regained use of his arms. For all the times he tried before but failed he finally succeeded at swinging at the air above him. He connected with a metal pole and heard the crash of an IV stand rattling around on the floor. A rush of steps had his eyes pop open and his legs swinging off the side of the bed beneath him.

“Sir…” The voice was too kind and patient to be heard or taken seriously. “You need to relax. You are safe, Sir. Please...”

As hands went for him his own tugged at the lines that had the IV tree clanking along with his movements. One by one the plastic tubing was yanked out as well as the hard ports that were taped into place. A jingle of keys and the sounds of radio communication started flooding the hallway. The cool air surrounding him and reminding him of his lack of clothing outside a tie back gown did little deter him from being ready for a fight.

“Good day, Esli.” A male voice interjected from across the room. He didn’t bother to turn around. He was tossing the wadded up tape and needles into the red and white Hazardous waste container secured on the wall for safe disposal. The guy in a white lab coat over the universal blue institution scrubs offered up a smile that likely was recycled at least a hundred times over the sixteen hour stretch the fourth year intern was working his way out of. “Esli, how you doing, man? My name is...”
“You don’t want to do this. I got nothing to say to you.” Esli cut the attempt off cold and quick. His eyes wore the look of warning as they took into account each body slowly stepping into the room. “Just stand back and it is all good.” He looked around as if his clothes would somehow jump out at him now that he was looking for them. There was no way in hell he was willing to let a lack of street clothes sway his length of stay. He was on his feet and ready to roll. “My wife.” He was shooting daggers with his focus on each face waiting for an answer. His hand tugged at a closet door in the room and located a personal belongings plastic bag. He turned to investigate. “My brother?”
“Esli, you have been through alot and right now you need to listen and let us help you.”

The sounds of steps behind his back as he was reaching into his bag was met with a quick, dexterous toss of the bag. It didn’t stop there. His hand was forming into a flesh weapon when it took on the shape of a fist holding a tongue depressor in a chilling manner. The rich red drops of blood seeping from his inner arm and the top of his left hand created a circle pattern of his movements lnding on the sterile white hosital tile beneath his feet. He shook his head slowly in silent warning.

“You hear me?” His voice was not raised, his body eerily relaxed while the rest of the staff witnessing clearly looked ready to pull the alarms and call in extra hands. “My wife and my brother. Where are they?”

[Gideon Barnes (DELETED 8781)]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

Ephesians 6:11
Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.

He hadn't heard from Esli in days. He assumed that he was in the hospital, or worse. Lasair either. Last he knew, she was going to the hospital to see his brother. But, what had happened in the days and nights to come? Mona had grown silent too. At least their babies were in good hands. At least, that was what Mona said. She told him that they were with grandpa. Whoever that was.

He had texted his brother's phone every few hours and Mona's too. Finally, when things had calmed down and Gideon didn't look like a walking pin cushion and could walk without his balls hurting, he decided it was time to leave the compound. Leave it and find his family. There was much to talk about and much to deal with. But, God had been good, even if it seemed as if he hadn't been. Gideon was alive. They had successfully defended the facility and the cure, and files about it had been attained by the right side.

Gideon made his way from the compound in the woods and to the east side of town. If they were in the hospital, he knew which one they would be at. It seemed every time one of them was in bad shape, that was where they ended up at. Gideon entered the hospital, looked in the emergency room, and then went to the desk. "My name is Gideon. I'm here to see about my brother. His name is Esli. He was admitted a few nights ago." Gideon had to give them a last name, and before they could get too far into the system about his brother's information, he asked about two more. "Was Mona MsGee admitted here? I'm her...we're together." And then after being rejected any information about Mona because he wasn't kin or married to her, he asked about his sister. "What about Lasair? A redheaded woman. She's my sister-in-law."

The woman behind the desk frowned and then raised her brows. "We were defending the compound against the filth that plagues this city. They're brave warriors and heroes." he added his two cents in, before the woman shook her head. Seen a lot of those come in, but a few leave. But, you're in luck. Seems your brother and sister in law are here. Both on the same floor, but different rooms. We're getting crowded. Rooms three hundred and five, and three hundred and eight." He nodded, then moved to leave. "Thank you. Keep your loved ones close." He warned her, before Gideon tapped the top of the desk and moved to the elevator.

He got off on the third floor and chose the one closest to the elevator. It happened to be a fluke that it was his brother's room, and he knew it before he entered it. His voice, though scratchy wasn't hard to pick up, even with the random beeps and call lights going off in the hallway. "Brother." Gideon said as he entered the room, holding a wary hand of caution up. "Save your strength. Lasair is going to need you at your best. Mind and body." Gideon wasn't about to tell him that she was in here either, because he didn't know how bad of shape she was in. But, at least she was here. "Brother." Gideon approached and crouched down besides the bed, grabbing a hand and clutching it to his chest. "The righteous have won." He assured his brother, looking him dead in the eyes with a grin on his features.

[Esli Barnes]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

Esli was relieved to see Gideon appear. The room stilled as the crack of pressed wood echoed from his closed palm. He glanced over his brother’s shoulder and nodded to the door behind them. If the staff at his brother’s back couldn’t take a hint they may need something else to motivate them to start stepping. The mention of his wife’s name pulled his eyes from those lingering to his brother’s reach for his hand and putting it on his chest. The subtle vibration of a paladin’s heart beating beneath the press of his open palm calmed some of his inner storm.

“Where is she?” The news would be something to expand on but for the moment he wanted to know, Was she okay? Obviously his brother was. Better than okay. He was feeling victorious. “I am not sure what happened in there.” Part of him had a few guesses. His body ached when he thought of the possibilities. “I mean, yeah, I know some of what happened.”

His eyes bounced off Gideon’s shoulders and took in two faces still remaining in the room. He shook his head slowly back and forth while reaching behind his neck so that the ties came undone. The gown floated to the floor landing to form a white and blue dotted pool at the tops of his bare feet. His backside was bare to the room while he pulled out his bloodstained pants and hiked them up over his hips. A few moves of his fingers had them fastened and closed up. Another reach into the bag had a shredded shirt appearing in his hands. He lifted it up and eyed it as if there was something promising to come out of flipping it around and giving the inside out and backwards approach a shot. He brought the blood stained fabric closer and did a quick estimate of all the damage done.

“I think I made a few wrong moves.” He shrugged and settled for making the best of what he had to work with. While he stretched his sore arms upward he wiggled each limb into a prospective hole that would hopefully lead to a sleeve that was semi-intact. Something was certainly better than nothing. “Some in there I didn’t expect and when I came across them fresh from a fight that seemed to follow me from one hall to the next it went from bad to worse.” His fingers curled to inch down the crusty shirt down over his abdomen. The dark blood was far more than he anticipated seeing once the shirt was on. “I know I hit at least one of those we met up with earlier.” He turned around with a pair of socks in his hands. They were in no better shape than the rest of his clothes. Continuing with his plan of wearing what he came in with he hiked up a foot and balanced on the other like a flamingo. “Once I did and tried to head back up I was blocked from using the elevator or stairs. Pretty sure whoever was running that place was keeping tabs on live security cameras.”
“Sir, can you explain to your brother that the doctor won’t authorize his discharge at this time. He needs at least another twenty four hours of observation before he can go.” The remaining set of scrubs still standing in the room managed to insert their reason for hanging out as long as they had.
“You can leave now.” Esli winked and nodded towards the door. “I can take it from here.” Once the sounds of soft uniform soles squeaked out of the room to report the lack of patient compliance Esli went back to explaining what he did remember. “So, from there I was getting deeper into trouble. Not a whole lot of places to go when you have a monster coming at you that is the size of Mom’s cherry tree she used to get her switches from. Remember that?” He sighed. “Imagine that walking at you and swinging faster than you can duck. I have no clue what they feed on but that one had to be well over seven feet tall.” His eyes widened just enough to reveal the truth in his claim. “So glad you are in one piece, brother.” He reached out and gripped the top of Gids shoulder as he stepped around him to get his shoes on his sock covered feet. “Where did you say Lasair was?”

[Gideon Barnes (DELETED 8781)]

[against_peace][/against_peace]
Gideon entered the room once his brother recognized who he was. He glanced at the medical staff in the room, then looked outside the room to see who was in the immediate area. His brother asked for his wife, which wasn't a surprise. Gideon was about to answer him, when he started talking about what happened.

As the story unfolded, Gideon moved to sit in a chair. He nodded and glanced at the mirror above the sink. Dried blood was speckled over his cheek and above his right eye. He moved to the sink and turned on the faucet and brought some running water into his cupped palms. He splashed his face while his brother started disrobing and changing. After a few splashes and quick rubbing of his face, someone was talking to him as if his brother weren't in his right mind. Wasn't he standing here fine and talking fine?

Gideon glanced to the medical worker and then shrugged his shoulders as his brother said the worker could go. "We're good." He assured the guy, before Esli brought up some things from their childhood. He chuckled at the imagery, then shook his head. When the guy was gone, he moved to close the door to give them the privacy they would need. If they were able to lock, he would have done that for good measure. "Bet mom hit harder than most them. Looks like it took a lot for them to get you in here, brother. Praise God." Gideon felt nothing but relief for the fact that his brother and his sister were in here. He believed Mona was too, because God was good to them. He always had been and always would be to those who were true believers in his words and justice.

"She's here. On this floor." Gideon assured him, then followed up with another thought. "This isn't the ICU, so I'm sure she's good enough for company later." Gideon raised a suggestive brow, then moved to slap his brother's back. "I haven't heard from Mona, but I have faith that she's fine. She was with me for a while, screaming about a spy in our ranks. I remember what she looks like. She will need to be dealt with at some point." Gideon stated flatly, before he glanced over in his brother's line of vision. "Brother. We need to speak." He said quietly, before Gideon moved them away from the door of the hall of the hospital's wing. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a thumb drive while his left reached into his left pocket and pulled out a single vial. "Thus they told him, and said, "We went in to the land where you sent us; and it certainly does flow with milk and honey, and this is its fruit." Gideon's eyes flickered with success and accomplishment as a laugh bellowed out from his lips. "We were successful, Brother. Lasair's, Mona's, your sacrifice was not without. God is good and gracious." His hand came to his brother's back and slapped it firmly. "We have work to do, brother." Gideon said with a firm arm wrapped around his younger brother's neck, before the vial was tucked back into his pocket, the thumb drive in the upper pocket of his button down shirt.

[Lasair Barnes (DELETED 9516)]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

The labs had become a temporary home. Lasair had followed Esli to their battlefield; she’d done so with the knowledge that God supported them. The vampire scourge went against human nature. They were demonic and, despite the humanity to which some tried to cling, they needed to be destroyed. What they had inside of them was unnatural and regardless how hard they might try to be good, they would always be subject to darker, baser, more violent urges. They would kill the innocent, would inject them with the blood that would turn them, and would darken their souls. Before they could spread, the must be destroyed.

Over the past weeks, months—how long, exactly, had it been since she’s lost her unborn child?—Lasair had trained. Once she had pulled herself from her complete and utter misery, she had settled upon fury. She used it as fuel; she and her husband joined the ranks of the Paladins alongside their brother, Gideon, and Lasair—who’d never picked up a weapon in her life—had become deft in both sword and gun play. Every hour of every day that she was not sleeping, she was training. She was learning all that she could about the scourge they were up against.

Once it was revealed that a ‘cure’ had been discovered, Lasair could not help but wonder. How could it be used? The vampires could be stripped of their power, of their ability to return from the dead, and they could be slaughtered for their misdemeanours. They could be punished. Justice could be served.

With weapons in hand, Lasair took to the elevator as often as she could; she attacked any vampire on sight, having learned how to differentiate between warm and cold blooded creatures. Some returned fire and, though she might return to the ninth level wounded and bleeding, she would always go back for more.

When Esli was rushed to the hospital all Lasair wanted to do was join him; to be at his side while he healed, to help him to heal. But she didn’t. She didn’t abandon her post, nor her brother-in-law. She continued to guard that which was most important to them; a way to defeat the vampires at last. When the blast doors were blown open and entry to the labs proper was gained, Lasair remained at the entrance to slaughter any vampire who tried to get past, who tried to take the cure for themselves. And it was not for nothing.

When Gideon retrieved the research relief flooded Lasair. Exhaustion hit her like a ton of bricks. Now, now was the time she could return to her husband’s side. For one night and one day she slept in the chair by his bed; his wounds were dire but the doctors were hopeful that he would pull through. Lasair knew that he would pull through. Eventually he would wake up, and Lasair wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. She went to retrieve the RV, to bring it to the hospital so that she could bring Esli some clothes, his own pillow.

It was in the carpark that she was ambushed; a vampire, a woman whose face Lasair would remember forever. A stupid place to attack, right outside the hospital doors. Almost certain that she would be killed, this time, Lasair fought back with all that she had. All it took was a bolt for the doors of the hospital into the emergency ward and she was home free. The wounds would keep her there for at least a week, however; she needed to heal.

Part of her was thankful for the rest. The other part wanted only to get out of bed, to get back to the fight. Where was her phone? Had Esli woken yet? What about Gideon, and Mona. Had they been found? Stress churned in Lasair’s empty gut until she was lurching over the side of the bed, vomit that consisted mostly of bile hitting the floor with a slap. Her slender fingers reached for the call button, her skin pallid and her hands shaking, red hair limp and straggled.

The nurse came five minutes later, cooing at Lasair, expressing kindness and generosity even while she knew she had to clean up Lasair’s mess. Lasair wanted to apologise, but she was far too frantic.

”My husband, Esli—is he awake yet? Have you heard from my brother-in-law, Gideon…?” she asked, voice rasping. The nurse promised to check, and Lasair was forced to sit back, confined to bed, to wait.

[Sawyer]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and the other begins?
- Edgar Allan Poe

“Oh my god!”
“Hey, get the **** back here!”
“Where did they go? Did anyone see that?”
“****, she got blood all over my scrubs.”
“We need ICU!”

It was the frantic shouts that started to pull her from the abyss, their voices coming closer, until she felt the weathered touch of a palm against her cheek. The scent of honey and antiseptic teased her nose as the stranger leaned closer, a vision of gray curls and soft eyes, to move into her line of sight. She remained still as her fingers brushed through the blood that stained her cheek, her lips trembling as she dropped her voice low, a whisper that barely made sense over the roar of agony in her skull.

“Honey, who did this to you? Can you hear me?” The question was so simple, and yet, she couldn’t process it. She had heard her, hadn’t she, so why couldn’t she respond? She tried, her cracked lips parting, but the only sound to emerge was a rasp before blood spilled past her lips to coat her shirt. Who had done this to her? What had happened? She didn’t remember. Why the **** couldn’t she remember? Panic flashed in the blue of her eyes, causing the dulling hues to brighten as she started to convulse, slender form shaking with a violence that made her bones ache. Her back arched off the cold tile, fingers grasping at nothing as her gaze jumped from the nurse to the ceiling, the artificial light blinding her as choked and garbled sounds vibrated from her open chest.

“Where the hell is ICU?”

The sudden shrillness in the nurses voice alerted the other doctors, and she heard the pounding of footsteps as they rushed to her aid. White, blue, black – the colors danced in and out of her vision as they moved to lift her from the floor, strong arms holding her prone to a muscular chest as the taste of leather touched her tongue. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine.” When her body trembled again, she snapped her teeth down on the leather, jaw locking on the belt that had been precariously provided just in time. It was all too much for her. She couldn’t keep up with the noises, the lights, or the various scents that came within mere inches of her. Something had happened, and she couldn’t recall what it was. All she knew was the pain that weighed her down. The pure agony that consumed her skull and rushed through her nervous system was the only thing she could focus on.

Even still she tried to remember how she had ended up here. She was supposed to go to the apartment, gather some clothes and herbs, and head straight back to the hospital. She had promised she’d be fine to go alone, but obviously that had been a ******* lie. At some point between leaving his side and making it to the apartment, she had ended up… dying. She was dying, wasn’t she? That had to be the reason for her body giving out on her, it had to be the cause for the awesome pain in her skull. Her chaotic memories were silenced when she felt her back hit the soft mattress of the stretcher, the sound of the metal wheels against tile piercing her skull with the force of a wrecking-ball.

She tried to beg them to stop, to ask where Ephraim was, to demand they take her to him – but the words never came. Each time she tried to speak, it was muffled around the belt, and she choked on the blood that was gathering in her throat. When the doors slammed open, she heard an unfamiliar voice over the sound of screaming machines. “What in the hell? What happened to her?” That’s the question of the day, isn’t it, she thought groggily as her lashes drifted shut, exhaustion pulling at her, despite her desperate need to stay awake. “Cracked skull, shattered ribs, and a GSW inches from her heart. I don’t know what happened to her, or how the **** she’s still awake. It looks like someone took a ******* sword to her head,” another voice spoke, and she felt herself slipping further into the dark.

“There’s been a few of them lately. Something is going on out there, but I don’t have time for it. We need to get her stabilized before we lose her.” Those were the words that were needed to allow the darkness to win, and as she succumbed to the shadows, she vowed to find the ***** that did this – and take her heart.

[Ephraim Steele]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

For the most part, Ephraim’s wounds had begun healing. Most of them no longer bothered him if he remained perfectly still, and the pain was manageable when he was moving around. He had intended to test his feet that evening, when Sawyer got back from the apartment. Something, though, nagged at him, tugging at the back of his mind as he ran his fingers through his long, unruly hair. It made him uneasy, her being out on her own like this, but she had insisted that she could handle herself. She was as ready as she would ever be, he supposed, before she had given him that trademark smirk, that little flirty wink of hers, and vanished from the room what felt like hours ago.

Maybe it had been hours ago. He could hardly tell anymore.

His gaze moved to where Jenna sat in the cheap plastic chair that the hospital had provided. She leaned forward, lacquered nails tapping against one another as she stared at them with an intensity that made him fear she would catch fire just watching her own thumbs. Brows drawn together, Ephraim cocked his head and frowned at her as he moved to sit up. “What’s the matter with you, Jenna?”

He had lived with the woman for years, since he had come to Harper Rock, and he knew when she was nervous; when she was upset, or worried, or truly concerned. The amount of tension she was giving off was thick enough to slice with a knife. He knew she would try to lie; she always tried to lie to him. She was a terrible liar. She had too many tells, and not enough conviction to hold to her constructed truths to be convincing. The small blonde sorcerer took a deep breath, heaving it in a sigh that gave him just a little insight into the way her chest was a knot of worry. He was sure she would vomit into her own sneakers if he left her to worry like that in silence much longer.

“Sawyer.”

It was the only word she muttered, when the waiting room sounded like it exploded. The doors to the hospital’s inpatient ward bursting open in a rush, a collection of nurses and techs surrounding a single stretcher being pushed quickly down the hall toward the ICU, the chatter going across the prone form was quick and precise, woven intermittently with voices of panic and worry. There could really only be one thing that would cause that kind of a commotion. It was another paladin, another human with an inexplicably mangled body still far beyond the threshold of normal human life and still managing more consciousness than some Hollywood stars.

Pushing himself to his feet, he ground his teeth together with a hiss of air as he pushed through the pain, through the exhaustion that filled every part of him as he lifted himself up and, leaning against the IV drip, rolled it as a sort of support to the spot next to where Jenna sat, looking over her shoulder with wide, haunted eyes as the figure passed them in a rush.

It was Sawyer, plain as day, even if neither of them could recognize her face through the bruising and the blood.

He took a deep breath, pushing past the pain and gripping Jenna’s shoulder with a death-like vice grip before he stepped out into the hall. As a doctor made to run past him, Ephraim’s powerful arm whipped out and threatened to take the young man’s head off as he grasped at the collar of the man’s scrubs.

“The new one. Where are they taking her?”

The man’s eyes were filled with a mix of emotions, a terror that shook him to his core as this huge bear of a man towered over him, muscles hard as iron locked in a predator’s poise as he remained on his guard, now that his wits were about him again. The doctor lifted a hand and pat at the grip that held him captive. “They are taking her to Intensive Care. Severe wounds, they think she might be critical. I really should be going, they might need me.” Ephraim made a sound in his throat, something akin to a growl as he pulled the man close. “I’m coming with you.”

It wasn’t a request.

The doctor could sense the edge in the man’s voice, the exchange they had already shared was becoming a scene, doctors and nurses that drifted about the floor stopped and paused to look at them, a handful of patients looked their way, and they stood there in the center of the floor, in front of each room’s limited window space, and made themselves about as obvious as they could manage. The doctor had little choice.

“B-b-b-but you aren’t family…”

Ephraim lifted his wrist and tapped at the tape they had put around it sometime while he had slept. They shared a last name, at least on paperwork that, should they choose to dig deep enough, was as fake as one might be able to manage. This, though, served for his purpose as he jabbed a thumb at the door. “Lead the way. Now, egghead. Wife’s not going to wait on you clowns all night.”

He knew, if anything, she would be in and out of the ICU in a night. The hospital, though, was likely to be their home for the next week, tops.

That’ll really freak her out, I bet.

[Esli Barnes]

[against_peace][/against_peace]

Esli barely had his shoes on and was out the door when he heard the news from Gideon's lips. Sacrifice? The meaning was deep for him. Perhaps more than some would think but for him it was a driving force that had him writing off the near death experience he was dealt a week back as minor. That was nothing. He knew what happened, asked for most of it and was capable of working it out in his head. His son would never be able to. He was back in God’s hands and care. Esli felt the sting of the reality that he failed to protect him and his wife. He was trusted to do so and the truth was he didn't.

“You got your hands on it?”

Hope found its way within him as he eyed Gideon’s proof in hand. It was a flash of quick show and tell but Esli knew his brother would only claim such if it was fact. Gideon didn't lie. He never really had to. Both of them were raised to understand the truth was worth telling. Lies were the faithless and evil works of weak men and sinners. Lasair. This would be worth having Gideon share himself. He wanted to see her face when she heard the news. Esli clapped a hand at the opposite shoulder belonging to his brother.

“It's time to tell her…” Esli’s steps went from fast to slow to a sudden halt. “Wait, she's on this floor and may be up for company later?” Whatever fog lingered in his brain thanks to the medication the staff last fed into his intravenous system dissolved immediately. “What happened to my wife?” His eyes searched Gideon's waiting for an answer. “I'm not going anywhere until I see Lasair.” His hand on Gideon's shoulder pressed firmly as if to give him the lead in guiding him to his wife. “You can tell her the good news and we can get her out of here. This place is no better than where we came from.”

During the time he was prisoner in his own body he could sense the presence of the walking dead moving around him. It was not constant but enough that he knew he was never safe. Now that he was on his two feet he felt it more so. They would not leave without Lasair. Mona. Gideon mentioned Mona and sacrifice as well.

“What about Mona?” His steps grew heavy with weighted purpose. The most important discovery in the battle of the evil spreading like wildfire was now in the right hands. He had faith Gideon would serve it well and just. “We need to gather her as well. Any of us in here need to band together and we need to get somewhere safe. The battle has only begun now that you have what they fear most.”

Esli knew that the cure wasn't safe in that secured lab. Vampires invaded it with a rapid mass assault to reach what Gideon was currently carrying in his pockets. There was even less preventing the fanged and furious from coming for it once they realized it was taken from the building entirely. The fact it was in a paladins possession would bring them hunting in droves.