Till Deceived Do We Part

It was a serene sight. A cloudless sky, the sun shining high, the wind rustling the blades of grass, and random flower petals floating along the breeze. Chairs had been set up in rows upon the grass in the back, a small platform set up in the front. On it sat the coffin. The coffin that contained Jake... something I still couldn’t process, still couldn’t comprehend.

The ceremony was nice. As nice as a ceremony could be. But I didn’t attend. I stood in the back, ignoring the seats laid out at the front specifically for tops. Who did that even consist of, now? Myself and Zane? Flint was no longer a top. He was the head, the boss, the main man, or whatever you wanted to call him. However, he would never be Jake. He would never be my father-figure, or my friend.

All of the men, and the few women, and even the children being trained, were there. All sitting politely, listening to the final words of the pastor we had managed to get out here. Flint arranged it. I didn’t know how, nor did I really care at this point. All I knew was that it didn’t mean a thing. Jake was dead. He wouldn’t care about any of this, all he would care about was us attending. Us saying our farewells, and moving on. Not holding this hurt in us, and not allowing it to effect us so. I guess I failed him, then.

The pain that hit me whenever I thought of Jake not being there, not reprehending me on missing a beat, hurt so bad I had to close my eyes to push back the tears. It was like a serrated blade had been wedged into my heart, and with every breath, with every beat of my cold heart, it twisted, sending white agony through my veins and an emptiness that I didn’t know how to fill.

My eyes shut, and I leant harder against the tree. I couldn’t stand to see this. To hear this. For this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be!

A choked sound left me as I turned, stumbling away from the tree. My knees threatened to give way, but I wouldn’t allow them to. My heart clenched, and my hand pressed against it hard, my eyes shutting tight again. I stumbled again, and had to lean against another tree. I gasped, but air seemed to defy me. It didn’t want to come. My eyes stung, and I could feel the liquid growing behind them. I wouldn’t cry, I would-

“Drake?” The voice was silent, hurt, pain filled. I turned, my eyes opening. Zane was walking towards me slowly, his posture tense. His face was still dark in many areas, he was limping, and his arm, along with mine, was in a cast, but he was standing and talking. He was going to recover completely, and that’s all that mattered.

His eyes were wide, and covered in pain. He was hiding it too, which scared me. His pain was hidden, yet there was so much for show–so much for viewing. How much pain was he in?

“What?” I tried to make my voice sound tough, hate filled and cold. I didn’t succeed. It came out weak and shaky, my lips trembling afterwards, the exertion of saying the single word too much for my damaged soul. He crossed the space between us in a few steps, steps that blurred into my mind, but never stuck.

All I knew was that he was here. Zane was back. Zane was here.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest. That did it. That simple gesture, that simple act of kindness when I was so fragile, shattered what restrain I had left. The promise I had made to myself so long ago broke, and I found the first tear in eighteen years sliding down my face. As so many addicts would have to agree, after the first one, there’s no going back.

I found my arms clinging to Zane for support, as the water stung its way out of my eyes. Sobs wracked my body as I choked, my whole frame shaking against the arms of Zane. He held me tight, even as my knees gave way; even as I soaked his shirt with my tears and sobs; even when I’m sure I squeezed his chest a little too tight.

My body let out all the despair it held. All the guilt, all the fear. It all came flooding out, and I found myself hurting even more. Zane had almost died. Jake had died, and the only man to whom had ever made me feel, made me alive, had left me horribly. Did I blame him? No. But it still hurt. It hurta lot.

“Shh.” he murmured, his hand stroking my hair as he lowered us to the ground. I clung to him, not wanting him to leave. He couldn’t leave! He was never allowed to.

I gasped, my hands moving away from Zane and clutching my stomach. My eyes squeezed shut, pressing down so hard it hurt. But pain was good. Physical pain was good, better than mental. Anything was better than mental pain.

My body curled automatically into the fetal position, trying to squeeze out the pain. Zane still held me tight as I shook and sobbed; as I heaved and cried. He even held me as it washed through me. Sick waves of agony, millions of needle pricks jabbing and slicing. It washed through me with the pain.

Another gasp left, this time the white agony shooting my eyes open. My heart seared and pounded, needing escape, needing-

“Shh.” His voice soothed me, and I found my eyes closing again, my body calming down. His hand stroked my back, but he still held me. Held me as if life depended on it, and maybe it did. I didn’t cry. Was the world ending?

My shaking soon receded, along with the tears. They slowed down one by one, and soon I was left with a numb feeling. My eyes felt puffy and red, my face stinging from the on-wash of tears, and my whole body stiff from being curled so tight. My mind burned with the thought of myself breaking down, but I didn’t care. Jake was dead. I deserved a break.

“Come on, they’re waiting for you.” Zane’s voice was gentle as he helped me up, his hands gentle yet firm. I allowed him to, no trusting my own legs.

“Who?”

“Everyone,” he murmured, helping me in the direction of the funeral.

“No!” I pulled back, but he held tight, his feet planting.

“Drake. Listen to me.” He waited until I stopped struggling. “Jake’s dead.” His voice cracked. “Nothing will change that. It is what it is. He’s about to be put into the ground, and I know if you don’t say something to him before he is, you’ll regret it. Don’t you want to say one last thing to Jake?” That stung. I stuttered, but nothing came out. “I’ll be there with you. Right by your side. I won’t leave, okay?” I nodded numbly, and allowed him to lead me off to Jake’s corpse.

Everyone was standing when we reached the hole. The casket was suspended on rope, and I could see the pulleys ready to lower it down into the earth. Jake was going back to Mother earth where he belonged. The ground would protect and preserve him, and I knew it was the best place for him now. He was still helping as he was gone, and... and I...

“It’ll be alright.” Zane’s soft murmur said, reaching my ears. Flint was standing next to the pastor, his face rigid and set, his eyes guarded. He only spared me a glance, not even commenting on my tear stained face or lack of formal attire.

My eyes zeroed in on the casket. Dark finish, nice trimming, apparently leather interior... and... what the fuck did it matter? He was dead. Jake wouldn’t care about that. He was dead! Angry tears filled my eyes. How could you? Anger built in me, and some part of me knew that this was what he wanted. To turn our despair and sadness into rage, something we could harness. But all I could think was how could you?

“How could you,” I found myself whispering out loud, trembling with the weight of the words. Zane held me tighter, and I found myself relying on him to stay standing. “How could you!” He wasn’t supposed to be able to leave! He wasn’t supposed to just abandon us with nothing. Especially after the news about my brother. I should be furious! Angry! Not sad, not mourning!

“I...” my throat closed, choking my words. “I...” tears threatened to leak again. Zane began to tighten his hold on me, but I couldn’t allow that. I couldn’t take it. The presence of everyone was suffocating. I had to get out! To get away. I forgive you.

I ripped away from Zane and ran. Just ran. To nowhere in particular. Just away. I had to get away from it all, especially the thought of Jake lying headless in that casket. For I kept seeing him. Again and again. The last look on his face, the last pleading look he gave me before...

~~

I threw up many times before I curled into a ball and fell asleep. The darkness covered me like a blanket, engulfing both myself and my emotions. I just didn’t want to feel anymore. I didn’t want to think. Movement sounded to my left. Part of me wanted to go into assassin mode, and jump up, shove a gun to whoever was bugging my darkness time, and demand answers. The larger part wanted to close my eyes and make them go away.

I opted to compromise my urges. I opened my eyes to see who or what was approaching, but made no move to do anything. The figure approached slowly, and from the shape alone I could see, I could tell it was Zane. I groaned, but sat up. He took a seat down beside me, leaning against a tree.

“Flint watched the video.” The video in which every leader makes for his successor. “There was a part for both of us. I think you sho-“

”No.” He went to speak, but I cut him off. “Not now. Not yet.” My voice had lost the little edge it had, and Zane nodded slowly.

“Take the time you need.” He paused. “Come inside, at least? I don’t know how much more of Flint’s worried glances I can take.” I smiled slightly. Flint had been pissed to find Zane in the condition he had been. We both had been. So lately, he had been hovering like a mother hen. Zane figured it was due to his almost father statue. He didn’t want to show Cindy–who made it through this whole event unharmed–he cared, so he took it out on Zane. Truth of the fact was, Flint was going to make a good father, even if I shuddered to think of it. However, the downside? He wasn’t going to be able to spend much time with the kid. He was in charge now. Something I was not pleased about it, not that I voiced it yet. At the moment, that seemed to be the least of my problems.

Things were still hectic. The police had gotten too close to us after the event at Dalton’s place, and now with our severely reduced numbers, all the gangs we kept in line, all the groups who feared us, were acting up. The only bright side on that was it kept the cops busy. I agreed to take a temporary break and wait for my arm to heal completely. Zane was doing the same, not that he had a choice in the matter. If I remained base-bound, he did too.

So that left the lower assassins to work. We had about fifteen left, a number which was way too low. Hunter, Remmington and Vachel all left immediately after Dalton was taken down, so I was to understand. Hunter promised Flint that he would send over some help if things didn’t clear up soon, and both Vachel and Remmington had nothing to say. Their boss had been caught backstabbing us. In their eyes, we were the reason for Boris’s actions. They weren’t going to act on their anger towards us, but we wouldn’t be able to count on their help ever again. That didn’t bother me too much.

Boris was dead. Not at my hands, either. Flint had killed him the night we got back. He said one too many wrong words and died right after he told Flint everything. Under my knowledge, Flint had caused Boris extreme pain and since Jake was dead, he didn’t need anyone’s say so to do so. Boris sang like a bird. Yes, he ordered the attack on Jake. And yes, it had been for information. What information, exactly, we couldn’t find out. The guards he listed that helped him were all now dead. They hadn’t been trying to hurt Jake, but Boris had gotten his hands on something each of them had wanted. They all died in the confrontation at Dalton’s.

Boris was behind the hit on my head, also. It made sense now since we knew Dalton and Lincoln had wanted me alive. Flint had put out a broadcast through the city’s underground announcing Boris’s death and that if anyone threatened the assassin Drake again, they’d have our full base against them. Even in our subdued numbers, no one wanted that. Two days after he put out that broadcast, the second payer pulled the hit back. We haven’t heard from him since. And from our understanding, the second payer didn’t know my gender. Not sure why, but Boris kept that a secret. The lackeys sent to kill me had been given an address and to kill the blonde. They put two and two together, but all the others aiming for my head still had no clue. Flint went back and killed the lackey’s, not even bothering to make a snide comment on how I should have. But at the time, Zane’s disappearance was more important to me. I had not idea why Boris didn’t mention my gender, probably some ulterior motive, but for now I didn’t care.

Anyone who had any association with Lincoln or Dalton were also dead. My secret died with all of them, the night everything went down. All in all, I was lucky that my gender hadn’t gotten out yet. Yet I couldn’t find it in myself to care too much.

Apparently Dr. Grave had been the one to ferry information to the captive I had killed. Dr. Grave was completely loyal to Jake, it was me he hated. Since the captive had been after me, he saw no harm in helping him. Jake found out and well... we weren’t too sure what he did. Flint couldn’t find any record of Dr. Grave, nor could he find him. Or his body. Jake had taken care of it.

Even though it’s only been a week since everything went down, it was already seeming so distant. Flint was taking his job seriously, Zane was repressing and I was... well I was hiding. Something that had to stop.

I wasn’t ready to just snap back, but that didn’t matter. The world was snapping back on its own, and if I didn’t go with it, I’d get hit by the backlash. I had to glare like I meant it, stand like I didn’t have a hole in my chest and work like I was still the best. The fact that Jake was dead hurt dearly, but what scared me more so was that it had affected me. What else could the bad guys get away with?

It didn’t matter, not now. I was stuck at the base for now, and that was probably the worst thing. What people we had left were crappy assassins, Flint was now in charge, Jake was gone, Dane left me, and I had a brother? And since I can’t go out and kill people, all I can do is dwell on it.

I couldn’t change our assassins. I would always hate Flint. Jake wasn’t coming back. Dane... I wasn’t even going to think about. My brother? Not something I can afford to think about at the time. And the base in general? I didn’t know. I just didn’t know. For once, the base wasn’t something solid in my life. It was no longer secure.

“It scares me when you go quiet.” I glanced at Zane. Zane was alive. That was a relief.

“Flint’s in charge.” Zane chuckled, taking that as his queue to pull me to my feet.

“Yeah. I’m waiting for the screaming matches.”

“I don’t scream.”

“Fine. I’m waiting for the hollering. Better?”

“No.” He grinned. Even if his grin was only half of what it used to be, it cheered me up. “Our base has never been so low in numbers before.”

“Must you mention work?”

“Zane.”

“Fine. Yes, we’re low. Yes, we’re hurting. And yes, we have a new leader. Doesn’t matter. You’re alive. I’m alive. Flint’s alive.” He paused. “Don’t give me that look, you’d be crushed if Flint died. Where was I? Right. Flint’s alive. The base is standing, and we’re together. Everything’s going to be fine Drake.” Was he right?

“I have a brother.” He stopped now, and looked at me. I waited for some exclamation of what, but didn’t get one.

“Duh. Standing right here.” And with that, he slung his good arm around me and dragged me to the base. That drew my conclusion. That, and I didn’t have the heart to break it to him that I wasn’t talking about him.

We may end up crashing and burning, but for now, for this evening at the very least, everything was fine. I was home. I was with Zane, and we were alive. That’s all that mattered.

I wasn’t ever going to get along with Flint, so I already knew the future would hold a lot of fights. Regardless of that, I was determined to prove that I could hold us up. I wouldn’t let one death of someone close ruin me. I was going to step it up a notch and show everyone that our base was not to be rifled with. I was going to take out my emotions on my hits, and be done with it.

Even if I had to do it alone.