Not Yet
Carlos
(A/N) Thanks to Sparrow 317, ha_ha_you’re_screwed, punkerellas_converse, billiejoe1, and mike’s pet fox for commenting. Also thanks to the subscribers. Sorry I didn’t update any sooner but I was working on a new story which will be a war fic featuring Green Day and My Chemical Romance. enjoy!
(A/N: this chappie has some lines in Spanish which are in italics.)
Mike slowly opened his eyes, shutting them quickly when the light hurt his eyes. Where was he? He tried to sit up and the burning pain that ran across his leg and arm reminded him of the recent transgressions like a horrible nightmare that he would much rather forget. The details were sketchy though. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what had happened last. There had been gunfire and then…what? Had he just ended up in the ambulance? Or was there a middle piece missing? The thought that he was probably going to the same hospital as his friends bobbed foggily in his mind. A shuffling around the ambulance caused him to open his eyes again, this time blinking several times to clear the blurriness out of his vision. At the far corner of the moving vehicle was a man, curly orange hair and a small frame, huddled over something too fuzzy for him to see. Mike tried sitting up again but a strong hand pushed him back.
“No te muevas. Don’t move, it only makes the pain worse,” the man said in a thick Hispanic accent. The words flowed lethargically through Mike’s hazy fog of confusion and pain.
“W-where are Billie and Tre?”
“No se de quien hablas.” The man replied. Not understanding the foreign tongue, Mike repeated the question and foolishly tried to sit up again.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. And I already told you not to move. You need all your energy with all the blood on you.”
“You a paramedic?”
“You could say that.”
Mike lay there for what seemed like an eternity, and then repeated the question again.
“Do you know w-what happened to them? T-to Billie and Tre?”
“Hold on, tus hermanos?”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll come to know it in time. But for know you need your rest Mr. Dirnt.”
“I never told you my na-”
“Hush now.” The man cooed and gently pushed down on Mike. The bassist tried desperately to stay awake but the darkness offered painlessness and he was finding its offer harder and harder to refuse. Finally, eyelids getting much too heavy, Mike succumbed to the sleep that called for him. But before he went, he could have sworn that the pain in his leg diminished, if not disappeared entirely…
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Carlos watched the blue eyed man loose his battle with sleep and placed his hand over the leg wound gently. After he was done, he sat back, running a worn hand through his curly orange hair. For a moment he wondered about the other two men and felt a pang of pity and sadness at what would be one of their fates. He began to fiddle with the gold chain around his neck and reaching an idea he took it off and ran his thumb over the figure of the Saint that was attached to it. He didn’t need it anymore. He let it fall into his palm, making a puddle of golden links, and slipped it into Mike’s pocket, knowing all too well that the man would need all the help he could get.
“Tu y tus hermanos necesitaran toda la ayuda y ezperanza que puedan conseguir, porque ya comenso el principio de el fin.”
(A/N: this chappie has some lines in Spanish which are in italics.)
Mike slowly opened his eyes, shutting them quickly when the light hurt his eyes. Where was he? He tried to sit up and the burning pain that ran across his leg and arm reminded him of the recent transgressions like a horrible nightmare that he would much rather forget. The details were sketchy though. For the life of him he couldn’t remember what had happened last. There had been gunfire and then…what? Had he just ended up in the ambulance? Or was there a middle piece missing? The thought that he was probably going to the same hospital as his friends bobbed foggily in his mind. A shuffling around the ambulance caused him to open his eyes again, this time blinking several times to clear the blurriness out of his vision. At the far corner of the moving vehicle was a man, curly orange hair and a small frame, huddled over something too fuzzy for him to see. Mike tried sitting up again but a strong hand pushed him back.
“No te muevas. Don’t move, it only makes the pain worse,” the man said in a thick Hispanic accent. The words flowed lethargically through Mike’s hazy fog of confusion and pain.
“W-where are Billie and Tre?”
“No se de quien hablas.” The man replied. Not understanding the foreign tongue, Mike repeated the question and foolishly tried to sit up again.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. And I already told you not to move. You need all your energy with all the blood on you.”
“You a paramedic?”
“You could say that.”
Mike lay there for what seemed like an eternity, and then repeated the question again.
“Do you know w-what happened to them? T-to Billie and Tre?”
“Hold on, tus hermanos?”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll come to know it in time. But for know you need your rest Mr. Dirnt.”
“I never told you my na-”
“Hush now.” The man cooed and gently pushed down on Mike. The bassist tried desperately to stay awake but the darkness offered painlessness and he was finding its offer harder and harder to refuse. Finally, eyelids getting much too heavy, Mike succumbed to the sleep that called for him. But before he went, he could have sworn that the pain in his leg diminished, if not disappeared entirely…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Carlos watched the blue eyed man loose his battle with sleep and placed his hand over the leg wound gently. After he was done, he sat back, running a worn hand through his curly orange hair. For a moment he wondered about the other two men and felt a pang of pity and sadness at what would be one of their fates. He began to fiddle with the gold chain around his neck and reaching an idea he took it off and ran his thumb over the figure of the Saint that was attached to it. He didn’t need it anymore. He let it fall into his palm, making a puddle of golden links, and slipped it into Mike’s pocket, knowing all too well that the man would need all the help he could get.
“Tu y tus hermanos necesitaran toda la ayuda y ezperanza que puedan conseguir, porque ya comenso el principio de el fin.”