A Tragic Self Sacrifice

The impact nearly knocked the wind out of him. His eyes still fixed on the barrel aimed at his chest. But the contact wasn’t a bullet to follow the crack of the gunshot. It was Cara’s body slamming into his at full speed.

No…she didn’t. No!

But she had. Even as his arms wrapped around her familiar form, he could feel her weight starting to sag. The barrel in his sights shook, then lowered as if in slow motion. A warm, wet sensation grew in his hands and arms.

He knew already what it was, but he lifted his hand off her back and looked down at it. Impossibly red, her blood glistened and dripped from his skin.

She didn’t. Cara, no!

Her weight grew more dependent on his frame as she barely stood, pressed against his body. He shifted her in his arms to look at her face. Already pale, she drew in air raggedly as if she couldn’t quite get a full breath.

He tipped her chin up from his chest. Those eyes met his, and like every time before his heart stuttered. Her skin paling even more starkly against the imposing red of her own blood where his hand cradled her neck and jaw. Her head became heavier by the second, her eyes blinking slowly.

What do I do? What can I do?!

Panic climbed in his throat and his breathing quickened. The blood staining her neck felt ominous. He stroked it with his thumb as if to wipe it away, but that simply spread it more. Her pulse coming through against his palm weakly.

Almost suddenly, he felt her hand touch his face causing him to take in a shuddering breath. His tears rolled through her fingertips as he leaned his cheek gently into her touch. His gaze found her eyes once more and in them he could see her pain and fear – pleading him for help.

“Cara…” he tried, his voice cracking.

The toll of the injury was too much. Her weight collapsed completely onto his arms as her consciousness gave out. Her hand and head falling limply away from him, and he could swear that his chest ripped apart.

“Cara,” more urgently. He shook her gently to no avail. She slipped in his arms, forcing him to adjust. Tilting her head to rest against his shoulder and neck with his hand holding the back of her neck, he stooped to secure her useless legs.

A movement in front of him snapped his attention away. Champion stepped into his sight line, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“She’s not dead…” he gets out, barely a whisper. But it wasn’t a statement. It was a wish, a hope, a truth he was speaking into existence.

But Cole didn’t know the answer. Couldn’t even comprehend the question.

Of course she’s not dead. She can’t be dead.

He thought he could feel her breath on his neck even as he tried to reassure himself without any proof. A soft movement of air bringing a surge of action, pulling him instantly out of the daze he was trapped in.

“We need to get help,” he said to Champion.

Cole watched Champion step forward, the pistol still in his hand. His finger now resting along the side, off the trigger. Cole saw Champion stride forward, time slowing infinitely. The gun raising again. Would he carry out the order still? Would he still capture him at all costs? Would it cost them both Cara?

Barrel rising, Cole’s tension resurges. His brain rapidly working out a plan. Could he run? No, he couldn’t run and carry her. Could he leave her? Champion would probably take over… but what if he chased him and left Cara to die? No, he couldn’t run with or without her. Flight out, his choices were fight or freeze. He felt like he was freezing. His impulse to fight was being overrun by Cara’s state – she would’ve fought for herself. She usually did. But she couldn’t this time. With that his decision was made. Collecting her up to his chest, he readied himself. He was going to shield her, take the shot, and hope that once Champion had dispatched him that he would get Cara help.

Just as Cole was about to turn his back to cover her, he saw the slow motion Champion’s hand move to holster the weapon as time started to return to normal speed.

Impossible.

Cole actually froze this time. He’d never known Champion to back down, to disregard an order. Or even remotely think for himself.

“Give her to me,” his voice low and commanding again. He reached for her to take her from Cole.

This felt like a new threat. To relinquish Cara into the arms of the man who had just shot her, was unthinkable. At the same time, this was her brother. She trusted him – to a degree. She had backed him, protected him, even covered for him.

And after all that, he shot her. Sure, he was aiming for Cole, he hadn’t been trying to shoot Cara- probably hadn’t even known she was there, just like himself.  But the look in his eyes before he’d pulled the trigger – Cole knew it well. He’d seen it in the eyes of people on both sides in a bloodlust rage over and over. And he’d experienced it, the pang of guilt cutting through even now amongst the grief, pain, fear and confusion of the moment.

He looked to Champion’s face, even while clutching Cara to him. He was losing his grip on her – figuratively and literally – as her blood continued to seep through his fingers. He shifted her again, resecuring his grip and her head lolled against his neck. He tipped his head into hers gently to steady her, while he studied Champion.

The blood-hungry look was gone. Champion looked terrified now and was nearly trembling.

“Give her to me,” he says again, softer. “I can get her into the hospital. I’m a Bannor… she’s a Bannor. Give her to me. Please.”

The last word so foreign and desperate in his voice, Cole almost couldn’t believe it.

Champion reached closer for Cara, still gathered in Cole’s arms. He was right, he could get her into the hospital. If Cole took her, he would be arrested, or worse, Cara might be rejected.

“Merran, please.” Champion was close now, his tone becoming chilly once more. His size was looming, he could just take her from Cole and there’d be very little he could do. Even setting aside Champion’s stature, the pain in Cole’s chest and throat were making it hard to breath.

“Get her there. Don’t fail her this time,” his voice came out cold.

Even as his gaze moved back to Cara, knowing he may never see her again. He stared at her face, wishing fruitlessly that she would just open her eyes. Snap at him for supporting her, declare she could handle herself. But she didn’t, and the tears stains running through the blood stains on her face were a stark reminder that she may never again.

Her best chance was with Champion. And Cole’s heart shattered again when Champion  gently pulled her into his own arms and rushed away, leaving Cole crumbling on his knees.

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