When the Sky Begins to Fall

Eric's POV:

I'm seeing shit, now.
Stormy is fucking dead; I watched her burn alive.

I shake my head attempting to clear it, as I turn around and try to continue on down the hallway.
But Four doesn't budge, so, I'm not able to move forward.

"What the fuck are you doing? Let's go, let's get this over with," I say quietly. "I'm seeing shit, now, man. I think I took too much, seriously, I feel weird."
It's not an exageration; I seriously feel ill.
And I'm hallucinating on top of everything else.

Four turns, and looks in the direction of my hallucination.

That's weird.

"Eric," she says, again. She sounds hurt, but, I know better than to believe that she is real; it will just make everything that much more difficult.

"You're not real," I tell the ghost of the girl I loved. "Go away, and leave me to my vices." I turn my face away from her again.

I notice everyone in the crowded hall, staring at me.
I can't blame them.
I'm talking to shit that isn't there.

"Eric," Four addresses me this time. "It's okay. It's really her. She's alive, okay? That's your Stormy."
I don't believe him; he is just mocking me. The ghost girl from my past approaches me, tentatively, reaching her arm towards me.

I feel like I'm having a bit of trouble breathing.

She touches me then.

She is real.
She is alive.
My Stormy is alive...

I lean into her touch, momentarily, as I gaze into her eyes, but then I pull away, quickly.

"Go away," I say, darkly. "I'm no good, Stormy."
"But, Eric-," she tries to reason with me, but I won't be reasoned with.
"No, just-, just go, before I hurt you, too," I say, dejectedly.

Four doesn't seem to want to move again, but since he has a weaker hold on me now, I pull away from him, moving forward by my own means.

"Come on, Four," I call over my shoulder. "I don't know where the fuck you were taking me, but take me there, now."
Four runs to catch up with me, grabbing a hold on my arm again, as we move away from Stormy.

I don't deserve her.
I deserve to die.
I want her, so badly; but, I'm like a cancer.

I take everybody else down with me.

Stormy's POV:

I'm left standing in the middle of the crowded hallway, with tears in my eyes, as I watch Eric retreat.
This didn't go at all how I had expected it to.

I don't really know what I was expecting, exactly; but, I didn't expect him to tell me to go away.

That hurt.

That hurt so fucking much.

I look down at the little silver disk implanted in my skin.
It pulses a glowing, electric blue.

I wonder why I didn't fall asleep, like everyone else?

Caleb's POV:

I watch as Jeanine paces back and forth, in front of her desk.
She seems to do that, often.

The team she sent in to Candor didn't make it out, they were all killed in action, or captured.

She's currently worried about her "boy toy"; Eric. We haven't heard if he was among the deceased, or the prisoners.

"If he's still alive, he won't last more than a couple of days!" Jeanine cries out, suddenly, wringing her hands. "He needs me! He needs his medicine!"

The woman is completely insane.

"You," she stops pacing, suddenly, making a beeline straight for me.
I shrink back as she leans into my personal space, studying my face.
I gulp loudly, as she does so, and, I know that she senses my fear.

"I need you to do a very big favor for me, when the time is right," she smiles at me, now.

This can't be good...

Four's POV:

Eric is my brother. How do I bring that up?
It seems unimportant at the moment, though.

I walk into the cell with him, and uncuff his hands; a guard stands just outside the door, just in case.
Eric doesn't look at me, he sits down on the floor, roughly, and stares at his feet. He has beads of sweat rolling down his face, and he has gone pale.

"How much have you taken, today?" I ask him, straight forward. He mumbles something, under his breath.
"What was that?" I ask him, again.
"Like, 5ML this morning, and 45ML just before we got on the train," he says, still quietly, but a bit louder than before.

I'm shocked at his admission.

"Eric, what the fuck? That's a ten-day supply!" I exclaim, in horror. No wonder he looks the way he does; he looks like a dead man, walking.

"I was trying to overdose," he shrugs his shoulders slightly, and I see him wince in pain as he clutches his chest, where his heart is.

"Dude, let me see," I say, softly. When he doesn't move, I decide to take matters into my own hands.
I feel weird doing it, but, I pull Eric's shirt up.

I gasp at what I see.

There's a dark, purple bruise where his heart is, just above his scar, and thin black tendrils surround it. He's got fucking black veins around his heart. And they're moving; they are expanding, reaching out and corrupting other veins.

His breath becomes quick, and shallow, and the little color he has left, drains from his face.

Fuck.

I don't know what the hell is going on, but this is not good.

"Ah, fuck," he wheezes, head lolling to the side. I scream at the guard for medical attention, and he rushes off, immediately.

"Eric?" I say, as my brother's eyes begin to flutter closed. "Eric? Fucking stay awake, man. Please. Fuck. Shit!"
I pat his face with my hand, but his eyes have closed, now, and my efforts to wake him up are futile.
"Fuck! Eric! Wake the fuck up!"

I stand again, and throw open the door, just as a medical team arrives.

They place Eric on the gurney, cutting his shirt off as they wheel him down the hall.

Fuck.

Stormy's POV:

I'm sitting on my bench, again, having a quiet conversation with Christina, when I see him. A group of people in white scrubs run passed us, pushing a gurney, with none other than Eric as the patient.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, jumping up, at the same time as Christina does. We follow them down the hall, all the way to an operating room in the medical wing. They don't bother closing the door; apparently, they're running out of time.

I watch, in horror, as they hook Eric to life support machines, and oxygen.

One of the doctors starts an I.V., and another leans over Eric with a needle the size of a turkey baster.

What are they doing with that?

I cling onto Christina, and barely stifle a scream, as the man stabs it into Eric's heart. Blood, tinged with a black substance, seeps through the plastic tube attached to the end of the needle, slowly filling up a see-through bag.

I can't believe that is coming out of Eric. What is that?

Why is this happening?

Four's POV:

I rush down to the operating room, after notifying the leader of Candor of what has happened. Stormy and Christina stare through the open door, watching the surgery.

"Stormy," I vie for her attention. "You don't need to see this."

She glares at me. "Yes, I do."

I sigh, and move to stand on her other side, slowly rubbing her shoulder. This is hard to watch. He didn't just try to overdose; he succeeded. Now, it's just a waiting game, to see if he'll make it.

I wish I'd told him.

I may never get the chance to, now.

16 hours later

Eric's POV:

What happened?

Where am I?

Ow.

It hurts to breathe.

I slowly open my eyes, to find that I'm in a dimly lit hospital room. I attempt to sit up, but a sharp pain in my chest changes my mind, and I give up that idea instantly. There's a large bandage over my heart.

Why does it seem like I never have a shirt on when I'm in hospital?

I hear a snore to my right, and I look that direction to see Four, sitting in a glass-backed chair, asleep.

My brother.
How do I bring that conversation up?

Somehow, it doesn't seem important, right now.

He must feel my gaze, because he stirs, and sits up straight, before sliding his chair next to my bed. I vaguely noticed that my left wrist is cuffed to the rail on the bed.

"Hey," he says, slowly. "How are you feeling?"

I start to laugh, but wince at the pain that it causes me, and lean my head back against the pillow.

"Like shit," I reply.

"So, you should be pleased to know that they're postponing your trial until tomorrow, and most of the Hyperopium in your system has been drained out. Your I.V," he points it out to me. "That's regular opium, small amounts, just enough to keep you from going into withdrawals." I stare at the little bag.

Can it really be this easy?

"Trial?" I inquire, nervously. I won't survive a trial at the Council. They'll sentence me to death for crimes against the people. Whether I wanted to commit them, or not.

"Yeah, your trial," Four replies, nodding his head a bit. "Don't stress about it, too much. I've pulled some strings, and they're gonna make a special exception for you."

What is that supposed to mean?

I raise my eyebrow, in question.

"They're gonna put you under the Truth Serum," he enlightens me.

Shit.

Stormy's POV:

I make my way through the corridors leading to Eric's room. I know he said he doesn't want to see me. I don't care. Four is just leaving when I push the door open, and I see Eric, lying in bed.

He stares at me, for a moment, before looking up at the ceiling.

Fuck that.

Four offers me a small smile as he closes the door behind himself, leaving me alone with Eric. I go to stand by his bedside, attempting to catch his eye again; he is purposely ignoring me.

"Eric?" I say, gently. "Eric, please, look at me."

I'm pleading with him, but he doesn't shift his stare from the ceiling.

I decide to sit down, and talk with him, anyway. He has nothing to do but listen, and, maybe he'll decide to converse with me, in the process.

"Ya know, last year, I dressed up like you asked me to," I begin, racking my brain for the memory. "I must've gone through ten outfits before I decided on one; I was running so late." I laugh a bit, remembering the nerves I'd had that evening.

"There was knock on the door," I continue. "And, I thought it was you. I thought you might be angry that I was taking so long. But, it was Amar. Something was off about him; he acted like he wasn't even there... He stabbed a needle with some blue liquid into my neck, and when I woke up, I was at Erudite."

"Erudite?" Eric asks, then, quietly. He's caught my gaze, now.

Good.

"Yeah," I say, sadly. "I was in this room, by myself. And Jeanine had a screen in the wall; she would leave me notes whenever there was footage of you, that she wanted me to see."

I see Eric gulp, visibly. Guess I struck a chord, there.

"I didn't know what it was the first time, I just turned on the power, and the feed was you running into my burning apartment... And then, the next one, was after my funeral, and you-, you were..." I feel a few tears slip out of eyes, and I attempt to brush them away, quickly, before continuing.

"I don't know if you realized there was a camera pointed right at you, but, it felt as though you were staring into my eyes, when you said all that. When you told me that you loved me. And, then, I just lost it when you... when you cut yourself up. For the first three months, I didn't know if you were alive, or dead. And then she had a note waiting for me, again. I watched a few videos after that, before I stopped watching them... I just couldn't..."

I stumble over my words; this is not how this was supposed to go.

"Jeanine would visit me, sometimes," I say, quietly. "But, it was just to mock me... Mostly, the only company I had, was-, I mean-, sometimes there were others, but, mostly it was Marcus. He made me do awful things... He did awful things to me..."

I can't stop the tears, now. And I can't bring myself to look at Eric, either. He must think I'm disgusting.

I lay my head over on the side of his bed, as I cry, as quietly as possible. I feel a hand in my hair, twirling, and petting my blonde locks. I turn to look up at him, and he is staring at me, with a sorrowful expression on his face.

"I'm so sorry, Stormy," he whispers, a single tear escaping his own eye. "I'm so fucking sorry."
"I'm sorry, too," I whisper, attempting a small smile. I'm glad he's talking to me, now. I need him.

"Don't be," he tells me. "You don't know the things I've done... I don't deserve an apology. You've done nothing. I'm a terrible person."

"Eric, no you are not," I tell him, gently, urging him to believe it.

"Yes, I am," he insists. "If I tell you a third of the things that I've done in your absense, you wouldn't want to see me. You would run away, screaming..."

"I have a feeling you might learn a thing or two, yourself, tomorrow," I tell him. "At the trial."
He sighs, deeply, blinking his eyes slowly, and I smile a bit.

"Go to sleep, Eric," I whisper. "I'll be here when you wake up."