This War's Not Over.

Garrett was nervous the whole drive to New York. Two days ago, he had a bad feeling arise in the pit of his stomach and it had yet to go away. He just knew something bad was going to happen and he had bugged the holy hell out of Jared to go. So the four of them inquired to Rafe where Evie might have gone and had then taken off, worried for their best friends. John had been the one to suggest the trip, the one who fought hardest for it next to Garrett himself which surprised him a lot.

He could not physically keep still, unable to stop his body from fidgeting during the drive, filled with a nervous anxiety he couldn’t place. Something kept telling him that his friends, the two people he probably cared most about, were in trouble but he couldn’t place why they were in trouble or what they were in trouble for. He was sick with himself for letting them go at all.

Crossing into New York, his anxiety peaked causing his limbs to tremble violently and his ears to ring, his head aching as if he was hung over. Looking over, he found John bouncing his leg up and down, one of his little known nervous habits. Not only was he bouncing his leg, he was chewing on a fingernail, strangely silent, choosing not to speak to any of them. Pat looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin and Jared was unusually morose, staring straight ahead as he drove.

It was a sudden motion when Jared slammed on the breaks and Garrett cursed as the van came to a halt. It wasn’t the touring van, it was the one vehicle they all kind of hated because no one ever got any sleep in it. “Dude, the fuck?” Garrett shot Jared a dirty look, but Jared merely pointed ahead, his eyes glued to the street. There, in the middle of the road, stood a young man with pale features, golden eyes and dirty blond hair. From the side, he almost looked like Evie.

“The fuck are you doing, pal? We’ve got places to be!”

“Not in New York. It’s not safe for anyone.” Came the reply. Looking closer, Garrett spied rope burns on his wrists and there were impressions of ropes left in his shirt. Either the man was into some serious kink or he had been tied up somewhere recently for purposes Garrett didn’t even want to think about.

“Well, we’re looking for someone. Two someones, actually.” Jared replied, slowly. “One’s about six feet tall, brown hair, kinda lanky, has a tattoo on his wrist? The other’s around five foot six, with chestnut hair and bloody eyes?” Of all the features, Evie’s would have stood out most, as having blood in ones eyes was not a common marker for identification purposes.

The man in the street paused, his eyes widening slightly before he posed a simple question. “You know Angie?”

“Angie?” Pat murmured, confused.

“Evangeline, Pat, it’s a nickname.” John replied, hushing the brunette. “Yeah, we do. And we’re pretty worried. Do you know where we can find her?”

Garrett was half convinced that the boy – who had introduced himself as Michael – was leading them to a cemetery, but at only an hour before dawn he didn’t think it was likely. They were running out of time. Following him down a flight of stairs, they arrived in a basement of some sort, finding two subsiders dead, and two bodies piled in shadows. Horror spread in the pit of their guts as their worst fears were realized.

John’s face looked ashen as he approached, the only one with the courage to do so. Kneeling down, clicked on the mini flashlight that he kept clipped to his keys. Crying out, he fell backwards, scuffling across the cement floor as he tried to find his footing. The light illuminated Evie’s bloodstained features and the ragged wound at her neck. It looked as if she had been attacked by some kind of animal. “Oh God.” His voice was an octave higher but muffled by the hand over his mouth. Kennedy was beside her, arterial spray lining his face, his body still twitching slightly. There were no wounds on his body at all that John could see, which was at least a slight blessing.

“I can’t move them on my own.” Michael murmured. “We don’t have much time. We need to get them home.”

“We’re moving bodies now?” Garrett had to ask, all hope gone.

“They’re not dead.” Garrett hadn’t noticed that Jared had moved and was kneeling over Evie with his fingers on her throat. “She still as a heartbeat. Her breathing’s shallow, but she’s definitely alive and Kenny’s twitching.” Jared very carefully moved Evie and lifted her into his arms, carrying her back out the way they came. “Get Kenny and let’s go.” His voice was urgent. They were running out of time. Garrett merely stared daggers at his retreating back before Jared turned, one eyebrow raised. “You really wanna argue, Gare?”

Garrett thought about it for a moment and then sighed. No. No, he did not. Michael helped him carry Kenny upstairs and to the van, Michael’s brow furrowed slightly. By his posture, Garrett assumed that he was feeling guilty about something or other. Perhaps his warning to Evie and Kennedy had come too late? It wouldn’t surprise him. Together, those two were devious and they worked fast, despite the fact that they liked to break and bake.

The directions ‘home’ were dubious and simple and they arrived well before dawn broke, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. They carried the two comatose friends into the building and into the elevator which carried them into the penthouse above. “Are you sure Evie’s your sister? She just seems so. . . different than. . . this.” John mumbled to Michael as he helped the boy carry Kennedy over to a couch. In all their years, none of them would have pictured Evangeline as a member of the elite Upper East Side New York socialites.

“It’s because I am.” She wheezed in Jared’s arms. Her eyes were barely open, her voice barely above the sound of breath, but they heard, Michael rushing over to check her vitals. “Wouldn’t happen to have a bag of O neg lying around, would you? I need a transfusion.” She tried to manage a weak smile but failed, her teasing lost in the sound of her breath.

“Angie, stop – I don’t know, stop moving or something. You’re still bleeding.” Michael seemed frantic, bustling around the room in a panic. “Let me go get da-”

“Don’t get dad. Just get me a bag of O neg and a needle. I’ll do it myself.” She seemed insistent, but she didn’t try to struggle out of Jared’s arms, instead choosing to lay back in them, listless. “Is Kennedy alright?”

“He’s unconscious sweetheart, but he’s alive.” Jared responded, laying her across the couch opposite Kennedy as Michael reappeared with a transfusion needle and the bag of blood. “Rest, okay?” Evie snorted in response and fumbled for the needle. Unable to grasp it, she moaned and sank into the couch pillows. She mumbled directions to Michael who fumbled his way through the entire thing, poking her several times with the needle before finally finding her vein, but Evie never said a word. It was then that they realized she was already unconscious again, her breathing even and shallow. Michael went about bandaging the ragged wound on her throat before showing them all to their respective rooms, quietly pointing out that they shouldn’t leave them until well after dusk, just in case.

With one last look at their sleeping forms, Garrett disappeared into his respective room, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

--
Kennedy was dreaming, he was sure of it. The colors seemed too vivid, the light too dilute. He was almost certain that he was dreaming because he was standing in a pool of sunlight with Evan beside him, unharmed. He tried asking her what was going on but received an enigmatic smile in response. “Please don’t hate me.” She murmured and then she was gone and he was sitting up, gasping for breath- and inhaling sharply.

He sat there for a moment, having the strangest sensation that something had changed, something was different. Sunlight sifted through the slit in the dark curtains that hung over the windows and he laid there perplexed as he tried to figure out where he was. His eyes fell to the small figure on the couch opposite him and his heart sank. Evan lay there, blood traveling through her system intravenously, falling from the bag that hung from what looked like a pole and a coat hanger, unconscious body still. A small slit of light fell across her sleeping features illuminating the dried blood and bruises that lined her face. “Oh, Evan.” He sighed.

It was then that he was struck dumb with the realization that he was breathing, that he had to breathe to speak. How had it happened and why? Why was he breathing again? What else had changed? He heard a drumming in his ears and rose a hand to his chest. His fingers detected the thrumming of his heartbeat and a few seconds later they found a pulse in his neck. He was definitely alive, in one of the more common senses of the term. What else had happened?

Curiously, he wandered to the window and threw open the curtain recklessly. The sun hit him hard and he was blinded but the light but unscathed. One hand rose to shield his eyes from the brightness. His skin didn’t feel as if it was on fire and his body wasn’t reacting at all aside from telling him that the light was too bright. An excited chill ran down his spine and he spun, moving back toward the couch and placing his fingers on Evan’s arm. “Evan,” he spoke in an excited whisper. “Evan, I’m free.” It was a futile gesture, he knew, as she was more than likely comatose, probably bordering death and as the thought crossed his mind, a choked gasp escaped his mouth. What if she died? He wouldn’t be the same.

To his surprise, her eyes fluttered open and her lips parted to speak. “Hey,” she rasped. Her eyes travelled over him and a moment later she had shot into a sitting position and was reaching for him. “Ken- your eyes. Your eyes. They’re hazel.” She murmured, talking quickly. “You’re warm, oh God, Kenny, you’re warm. . . You’re human!”

His heart was pounding in his ears and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “I know.” He breathed. “I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re alright.” Her embrace was chilly but distantly he was aware that excessive blood loss robbed a body of heat. “Do you need anything?” He asked. Someone had apparently changed the blood bag recently as it appeared full and it was high noon. She shook her head, but dizzily fell backwards into the couch cushions. Lifting her carefully, he lay down behind her, huddling against her body to provide heat. His chin rested against the top of her head as they spoke quietly and at length, bouncing possibilities off of one another. Evan’s last suggestion gave him chills.

“What if it was me?” She asked, quietly. “What if. . . what if it was my blood? It was probably spurting and-and-”

“I-Evan, I’m sorry, but, I drank it willingly. I thought-I thought you were dead or-or dying and I didn’t want-I couldn’t stand the thought-the idea that you-I couldn’t-” he stammered, surprised when she shushed him so quickly.

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.” She murmured. “But what if it was my blood. It’s possible, isn’t it?” She asked, curiously.

“If it was, then that means you’re the cure to our disease. And you—we would have to hide you. People can’t know, Evan. You’ll be killed.” He voiced what he knew was on her mind. She sat up and as the two shared a look, they moved, Evan removing the needle from her arm, Kenny reaching to steady her. She left the needle hanging from the now empty bag and gingerly stretched her aching limbs. They couldn’t stay where they were – not that he knew where that was. “Do you know where the van is relative to here?” She only nodded. Of course she knew. “This used to be home, didn’t it?”

“A long time ago.” Came the response.

“The others are here too, aren’t they?”

“Probably saved our lives.”

“They’re gonna be pissed.”

“Let them. We need time to think.” She replied and pulled the keys from her pocket, her slender fingers moving them silently. A moment later and they were running out the door. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Maybe.” He replied enigmatically as they raced toward the elevator. “Time to do a little research. And maybe find food.”

They reached the van after twenty minutes of meandering, Evan tossing him the keys before she unburied her laptop from the back seat, booting the computer and checking the internet connection. The street was empty, a ghost town. He had never seen New York so desolate and he had to wonder how Evan dealt with all of it, with seeing the world so empty and alone even in the sunlight. “So, how does it feel?” She inquired as he keyed the ignition. Hearing the engine turn over, he turned his head toward her and rose a brow. “To be back among the living?”

He snorted and turned toward her with a half smile on his face. “Like I’m free. Like someone let the air back into the room.” He spoke quietly as he pulled back onto the road and started the long drive home, anxiety in their veins. Her hand touched his as it rested on the gearshift and he exhaled softly. “What are you doing?” He asked, watching as she logged in to her blog account. The expression she offered him was a quick smile and then she went about typing something out, the look gone as quickly as it came. Curiously he tilted his head as he glanced over at her, wondering idly what it was she was doing.

“I’m putting out a call to see if any of my sources can find someone for me. I’m doing a little digging into my own past.” She responded, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile.

It took him a moment to realize what it was she was referring to, but when his mind flickered to the night they met, he knew.

”So what was with the Ninja move back there?” Pat had asked, referring to the quick and fluid motion that had taken her from on her back to on one knee in a matter of a few nanoseconds. She had moved so quickly, he hadn’t been sure he had even seen her do it. When she grimaced in response he knew it was something bad that had happened but as with all things Evangeline Cox oriented, it was an unknown, a mysterious enigma, a secret she kept well.

He was surprised when she responded so quickly, but the sound of her voice told him that there was more gravity and terror to the situation than even they knew. “Dallas.” She had said, but that was all, and he found himself morbidly interested in what it was that happened that had scared her so much.

“Dallas?” He asked, his eyes flickering from Evie to the road and back.

“Dallas.” She confirmed, and her fingers hit the enter key. Inquiry sent.