Nightshift 30: Greenhouse Yard

[shyboyblue]

[ From here.]Tyler burst out into the darkened yard, waiting for Reid to clear the doorway before slamming the door shut and slumping against it, gasping for breath. He felt dizzy and weak, sliding down the back of the door to land on the ground, trying to catch his breath

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[part1of3]

Input code D243-8136?

Ashton's throat went a little dry. What, exactly, did he mean by that? Input code? Like - a rune code? But the Rune Codes didn't have letters and numbers.. Oh, oh my, this was really worrisome. Claude had seriously been injured. Was he beginning to go delirious?

"What? I don't know what you're - Claude!" His best friend's hands were going limp. No, Ashton couldn't carry Claude back like this right now. Taking him back now would be risking jostling some of Claude's wounds and making them even worse. At least here was some fresh air, or at least as fresh as Landel's air could be...

He knelt on the grass by the greenhouse, settling Claude down on the cool ground. No, no, this couldn't be happening. If he lost Claude here, then what would he - what could he do!?

Ashton's words came out in tortured whispers as he brushed the sweaty hair from Claude's face. "Claude! Hey - Claude! You have to stay awake. You can't die on me, all right? You hear me? I can't, um.. 'input code,' but - just please, Claude, I can't stand - hey, Claude, this is Ashton. Ashton. I'm here. I'm right here." If he could just give Claude something to concentrate on... then maybe he wouldn't pass out.

[full_score]

Claude wasn't really sure what the problem was -- he heard someone say something to him, and then suddenly he was on the hard ground. Blades of dewy grass came into his line of blurred vision as his head lolled off to the side. For a moment, his clammy fingers twitched when he realized he couldn't feel any of it, but the thought was lost between his pained gasps, the beads of sweat rolling down at his brow, and his heart's furious pounding.

A calloused, yet oddly cared for hand brushed against his face, and his attention was brought upward, and to the anxious face hovering over him. Hey, Claude...please, Claude...hey, Claude... He tried to swim through the fog that clogged his senses, tried to get a grasp on the person who was saying his name like his life depended on it, and, for a moment, his glazed eyes focused.

Brown hair. Green eyes.

Ashton. Right here.

Suddenly it was apparent to Claude, and all the things he'd been so hung up on didn't seem nearly as important -- and in a shocking moment of clarity that he'd forget as soon as it came, there was an answer to everything, to their capture, to the suffering, to the conflict and division that rose between comrades. Things that were precious and easy to break, yet were strong enough to hold onto when things were unbearable. His friends were...

Claude opened his mouth to speak, but his lungs practically squeezed the air right out of him every time he tried to say a word. Swallowing hard, he gasped, and with faded eyes, he sunk into what felt like a thick, black blanket and slipped into an unconscious state.