ECKO
Agony. Longing. Desire. Terror. A bottomless, endless, neverending abyss of pain.
Emotions crashed over me like relentless waves, submerging my being, entwining me in an unyielding whirlpool that gnawed at the very core of my soul. Every breath became a struggle, each thought a sharp knife to the heart. Living while he suffered felt only like a cruel, unrelenting burden.
As the pack warriors hurriedly carried him – my mate – to the infirmary, the world around me blurred into an indistinct haze. My legs screamed with exhaustion as I stumbled to keep pace with their powerful strides, my heart yearning to be close to him with a desperation I couldn't possibly contain.
"Please," I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper as I stumbled over yet another divot in the ground. The desperate words came out automatically, although I had no idea what I was begging for, "please..."
"I know. I know, my sweet baby," Dad's voice floated through the haze, and suddenly I was aware of his arm around my waist as he hauled me back up to standing, supporting my weight when I felt like crumbling. "Benji is on his way. Just put one foot in front of the other, alright? Just keep walking. That's all you have to do right now."
A sob wrenched through my chest at his words, and although the infirmary loomed ahead like an omen, a mere quarter mile from our current position, I still doubted whether I could make it in my current state. With each step, my heart clenched, and I clung to fragile hope as my legs trembled.
Agony. Longing. Desire. Terror. Pain.
"Almost there, sweetheart. Almost there." Dad continuously encouraged. He basically held the weight of my entire body now, my feet barely skimming the ground with each step. And as the world warped around me, passing by in shadowy hues of color and sound, much sooner than I would have anticipated, Dad was hauling me over the threshold and through the door that led to the infirmary.
Chaos raged all around us the moment that we entered, and as all of the loud sounds echoed through the hallway, I winced, the haze that surrounded me lifting just enough for me to lift my head.
Where was he? I needed him. I needed to know. I needed to touch him. I needed proof that he was alright.
I needed to know that he would live.
"No!" The word blazed through my lips faster than I could even comprehend, not even needing to fully register in my mind in order for my soul to know that it was needed. Because right now, all that I knew – all that mattered – was that I needed him.
... I needed him, and yet there they were... why were they taking him away from me?!
"STOP IT! LET ME GO!" I wailed through an anguished cry, my body suddenly possessed by a fiercely overprotective being that I immediately recognized as Sana, desperate as he attempted to rip through the barrier between our minds and take full control. Unable to find a reason why that wouldn't work in my favor, I didn't hesitate to hand over half of the reigns.
If I was in my right mind, I would never do what I did next. But somehow, meeting my fated mate had turned the primal part of my brain to full capacity. And even though somewhere deep down, I knew that Dad was probably holding me back from flying into the treatment room in order to keep me from interrupting some important medical procedure, my wolf just couldn't – wouldn't – cope with logic right now, the deepest part of Sana's primitive, one-track mind only able to focus on a single train of thought:
Agony. Longing. Desire. Terror. Pain. Mate.
It was horrible and selfish and mean. And I'd definitely apologize to Dad a billion and one times once my sanity came back to me. But right now, thrashing in his arms enough to get my own loose before shoving him to the side with more strength than I knew that I even possessed seemed like the only option.
I crashed through the treatment room door the moment that I was free, stumbling blindly into the brightly lit room. Here, chaos still raged, and the air hung heavy with the combined scent of antiseptic and blood. But as my throat closed up and I ripped the curtain aside, revealing the sight of my pink-haired uncle, sweating heavily as he attempted to affix restraints around the still-bleeding limbs of my mate, I didn't just see red. I saw crimson.
"What on earth are you doing?!" My voice was so loud that it rang out like a gong within the tiled room, and even my own sensitive ears protested against the shrill sound. "Stop it, you're hurting him!" I demanded, launching over and clawing at his hands which were currently attempting to secure the first restraint around his mangled paw.
Unfortunately for me, Benji barely batted an eye at my outburst. Instead, the small half-faerie only glanced knowingly up at his mate, Tank, who stood like he usually did – a giant statue in the corner as he patiently waited for his husband to make him useful.
Apparently, their silent conversation was more than enough for Tank to move into action, guiding my hands away with a strength that – although it wasn't tight enough to hurt – was more than firm enough to send the message that I was clearly not welcome here right now.
Tank was quick to tug me far enough away from the infirmary bed so that I couldn't attempt to interfere with Uncle Benji's work anymore. And unlike my smaller father, I immediately knew that there wouldn't be any getting out of his hold anytime soon. After all, he was the head warrior of my Uncle Osias's pack, and even in my current state of frantic delusion, there was no way that I could even begin to deny that I was very much a twig-shaped pipsqueak in comparison.
But all of the strength in the world couldn't stop the high-pitched sound of Omegan distress that involuntarily worked its way up from my core, through my aching chest, and out of my throat, bathing the entire room in a distinctly somber tone that had everyone pausing to look at me.
Uncle Benji's face softened once he gazed upon mine, which in its undoubtedly tear-streaked and pitiful state would probably make anyone just a little bit empathetic. But as he continued to work with his hands, silently recruiting one of his medical assistants to assist with the restraints, his eyes remained locked on me.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie," he started, spouting words that somehow spoke directly to my soul. "I can only imagine how difficult it is for you to witness this and not be able to protect him right now," I blinked, more tears falling with the motion of my eyelids. "But I promise, he is in good hands here with me," Uncle Benji paused, his voice heavy with the burden of sorrow and responsibility, as if the weight of countless lives he'd tried to mend lay heavy on his shoulders. "I will do everything that I possibly can to save him."
Those words, like a gentle caress to my troubled soul, soothed me by a mere fraction. Somehow, I suppose it was enough for Sana to calm down enough to allow my muscles to relax for the very first time in what had to be the past hour. And as I sagged a little in Tank's strong arms and took a brief inventory of my spent body, all of the energy I'd lost throughout my struggle became starkly apparent.
With the adrenaline of my fight-or-flight response slowly dwindling, my body began to feel like some sort of hollow shell, drained and vulnerable. And my legs, once trembling from shock, now threatened to buckle under the weight of exhaustion. So, when I was swiftly transferred out of Tank's hold and into what I could only recognize as the equally, if not more, strong arms of my Papa, I gave no protest.
"Papa..." I tried to speak, but my voice was probably no more than a mere whisper, barely escaping my throat, lost to the sea of emotions whose relentless tide refused to abate as it wore away at my fragile surface. Papa's comforting presence enfolded me as he carried me out of the room and settled us on the waiting benches lining the hallway outside the treatment rooms. My grip on his shirt was tight enough to turn my knuckles even paler than they usually were, as if clinging to him could somehow keep the world from falling apart. "Papa..."
"I'm right here, pumpkin," Papa's low voice was a soothing balm against the rest of the world which seemed to have suddenly turned its back on me for reasons I was sure that I would never quite understand. But beneath that comforting tone, I still sensed a subtle sharpness, hinting at an inner conflict that he was likely attempting to contain for my own sake.
"Papa, please. Please, save him," I plead, the senseless beg interspersed with choppy, helpless mewls of distress, "What if... What if he..." I halted, unable to finish my sentence, my throat closing up at the mere thought of...
Giving way to yet another fresh wave of sobs that left Papa tightening his hold on me, my father began rocking us back and forth as he gently guided my head to rest on his shoulder.
Ever since I was a baby, Papa's powerful, Alphan scent had been my sanctuary, a barrier between me and anything that ever carried even the slightest possibility of causing me harm. But now, since I'd finally met my Alpha, it felt watered-down, diluted like a knockoff imitation of the scent I truly craved. The scent that I needed.
Regardless, I buried my face into the side of Papa's neck as he rocked us slowly, sucking in deep, lung-searing breaths as if it contained the only source of breathable oxygen left on earth.
Who knows how long it took for me to finally unstick my face from the side of Papa's neck and loosen my hell grip on his shirt. But by the time I finally came up for a tiny breath of fresh air, the night was thoroughly dark and my brain was thoroughly fried.
But even through the charred remains of my muddled mind, the dire need for an update on his condition simmered violently. So, using Papa's chest as leverage, I pushed myself up into a self-supported sitting position that was likely much more becoming of a grown man, opening my mouth with the intent to speak. However, before I could blurt out my question – or more accurately, my demand – the door to the treatment room swung open, and a wide-eyed Benji came tumbling out, making a beeline for my Dad. I hadn't even realized that he was lingering close by, whispering at the speed of light as he barked orders to nearby pack personnel, instructing them on ways that they needed to contribute in assisting with the issue at hand.
That issue, of course, being the fact that my mate was currently doing the fucking cupid shuffle over the line of life and death.
In any other circumstance, I would have laughed at that ridiculously worded thought. But right now, all that I could do was focus on my next breath and hope that somewhere just beyond the thin wall that separated us, my mate was still breathing, too.
Uncle Benji's long, pink hair was now pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, revealing very obvious dots of bright red blood scattered across the right side of his face.
A wave of nausea washed over me.
"Jax, I need to speak with you," Uncle Benji whispered urgently, stealing a quick glance over at Papa and me. He gently tugged on Dad's arm, a subtle signal that he wanted to move the discussion away from prying ears. But luckily, they only moved to the end of the long hallway, and with my keen hearing, I could still catch most of their conversation if I strained hard enough.
And I did.
"I'm just going to be blunt," Uncle Benji started, his voice already sounding exhausted, as if he'd just run a marathon behind those closed doors. "I've managed to get him restrained, IV'd up, intubated, and sedated, but..." He paused, his hesitation palpable "It's bad. It's really, really bad."
"Fuck. I was hoping... Damn it!" Dad cursed under his breath repeatedly, and the raw emotion in his words tugged at my heart a little. I could tell that he understood how much this meant to me, and right now, that meant everything. He recovered quickly, though, no doubt sensing the haste in Benji's tone. "How bad are we talking? Give it to me straight."
Uncle Benji winced, clearly struggling with his next words. "Compound fracture of the right leg, a significant laceration to his face, a few additional ones on the rest of his body, hypothermia, sepsis, hypovolemic shock... Should I even continue?" He sighed heavily, "If he's going to make it, he needs numerous surgeries that I can't possibly carry out on my own. The team I have isn't trained enough for all of that. And with Daffodil and Tyrus busy being the damn Avengers in some unknown dimension right now, I have no clue who I could call who not only lives close enough to get here on time, but also has the skill set necessary to help."
"So you're saying–"
Benji interrupted him. "I'm saying that if I don't get some trained help right now and have him on the operating table within the next thirty minutes, that man is going to die."
My brain stuttered, and I sat up pin-straight with a start.
No way. No fucking way. Please. No. No. No.
"Fuck!" Dad cursed again, "Damn it, give me a second to think."
"I really, really hate to say this, but we really don't have time to–"
"Shit! That's it!" Dad suddenly exclaimed, and the faint tapping of him rapidly typing a number into his phone met my ears next. At that moment, I sent the biggest, most powerful prayer I'd ever conjured up to the God/dess. Please, let Dad know someone who can help.
"Heyyy, Sebastian!" Dad's fake-cheery voice interrupted my train of thought, trembling with urgency. "Listen. I know how busy you and Kai are with preparations for the upcoming skiing season at the lodge hospital. But, if there's any way you could spare even just a day or two of your time, we could really, really use your help."
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