COLLAPSE
Title: Collapse
Written By: dxsenorita
Timeline: Post 513
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Warnings: A scare, but nothing to be really worried about
Author's Notes: First QAF story I’ve written in quite a while, so it took me a while to find the boys’ voices again.
Inspired By Icon:
The slip of pink message paper was still tightly clenched in his hand as Brian arrived at the scene. Fire trucks with sirens and lights blaring roared past him - police cars following closely behind. He stared ahead in disbelief as he looked at the destruction - shattered glass, crumbled brick, and splintered wood littered the street around the SOHO brownstone. The trip from his plush corner office at Kinnetik NY had been a fast five block sprint. His heart was pounding in his ears as he arrived, but he knew it wasn’t from the run. Only one thing in the world ever made his heart beat this hard and fast. And right now, given the destruction, sirens and lights, he couldn’t find him.
The gallery opening was going to be huge. Justin had said that repeatedly since he and Brian signed the lease on the space. Brian told him he was only signing on as a silent investor and everything else had to come from Justin or his connections. He didn’t worry about it being successful because he knew that with Justin’s talent - his own artistic ability and his ability to get those around him to do whatever he wanted - everything would work out fine. But this was not in their plans. Really, who would ever plan for a building to collapse around them?
“Stay back!” A cop barked as he held his arm back to keep a crowd back from the scene as paramedics carried out a sheet covered stretcher.
“Has everyone been accounted for?” Brian asked, panting the words as he came to a stop behind the officer.
“Not yet. From all the reports, we’re still missing about five people - mostly those who were working in the gallery on the first floor.
Brian’s heart sank. While the officer didn’t say specifically that Justin was still trapped inside, he knew it. He stood there for as darkness crept in from the horizon and public works employees erected flood lights to help the rescuers see what they were doing. He’d completely worn the battery of his cell phone down fielding calls from Cynthia, Debbie and Jennifer.
“Sir, maybe you should leave a number and head home. We’ll call you when we find who it is you’re waiting to be recovered.” A young Red Cross volunteered as she held out a paper and pen to Brian.
“No, I’d rather wait for him.” He said. “They’ll rescue him soon.”
“If he was on the first floor or in the basement, they’re treating it as recovery mission. Due to the structural damage, the engineers say they doubt anyone could have survived to be rescued.” She offered her eyes sympathetic and her voice appropriately tinged with sadness.
“I would know if he was dead, miss.” Brian replied. “I would feel it just as sharp as a knife to the gut.”
She patted his arm and gave him another sad smile before offering her tablet to some of the others standing around. Most of them scribbled down a couple of names and numbers and left. Over the course of the next few hours, even more of the waiters drifted away, eventually leaving Brian the only one standing by the security barricade.
He took a seat on the steps of the building next to the brownstone as he continued to wait, watching as the workers slowly began packing things up for the night. One of the firemen came up to him and said that it was too dangerous for them to continue working in the dark but they’d start back in at first light. Brian nodded his head and said he’d return then as well. He wrapped his arms tightly around his midsection as he ambled back toward the office.
Cynthia was sitting at her desk finishing up a couple of reports when he stepped off the elevator. She could tell something was seriously off when she saw Brian.
“Oh my god.” She whispered as she slipped out of her chair and headed toward him.
“Don’t - we don’t know anything for sure yet.” Brian replied tiredly. “They had to stop the rescue efforts because of the darkness. They’ll start back on it at dawn. I’ll be there when they get him out.”
“Of course, they have to find him. They will find him.” She said resolutely not saying anything as she watched Brian change from his suit into the jeans and black shirt he had in the closet of his office.
“If I don’t find him first.” Brian said as he grabbed a few things from the office and headed back down to the brownstone.
Cynthia shook her head and stepped out of his way because she knew better than to attempt to stop Brian when he was this determined about something. Especially when that something was one Justin Taylor.
“Call me when you find him.” She called out as he stepped onto the elevator to leave again.
A simple curt nod of his head was all the response she got in return.
Brian drove to the brownstone this time - figuring that if and when he found Justin he’d need to get him to the hospital quickly and walking the 12 blocks to St. Anthony’s wasn’t going to cut it. The place was almost eerie in how it lacked activity even though just a few short hours before it was teeming with people coming and going. But as soon as the public works lights were taken down, it was as if any of the possible survivors or deceased people trapped in the remains of the building ceased to exist.
He took a deep breath and then began to pick through the rubble looking for a sign of anything that would lead him to Justin. Twisted beams of steel, chards of glass and broken concrete greeted him as he continued to dig into the remains of the building he and Justin held the lease of the first floor and basement of. He dodged falling debris as he moved deeper into the destroyed mess but he stopped when he heard a soft sound.
“Dear God, if you even exist, I’d do anything if you’d just promise me that you’ll take care of Brian.” A soft voice coughed out. “Don’t ever let him forget that I love him. I won’t forget that he loves me - even if he hasn’t ever told me such a thing.”
“Hold on, Justin.” Brian called out, rewarded with more falling chips of brick and splinters as his voice echoed against the hollowed-out remains.
He continued going toward the direction he heard Justin’s voice coming from, and heard him cough again.
“Talk to me, Justin, tell me where the fuck you are.” Brian commanded walking blindly toward what used to be the stairwell behind the main room of the gallery.
“I’m on the stairs, Brian.” Justin called out, again sending more debris tumbling down.
Brian made his way back to the stairwell and found the door, doing his best to ease it open so more of the building didn’t collapse on top of them. He sucked his lips in between his teeth at the sight of Justin curled up tightly on the step, dust and rubble all around him. Justin eased his way out toward Brian, cradling his right arm tightly to his chest. Brian halfway carried him outside where the two of them were greeted by the crews starting to set up to recover more victims of the building’s collapse.
“Do you realize you could’ve gotten yourself killed?” A gruff cop growled at Brian as paramedics pulled Justin from his arms. “You are fucking insane for going in there by yourself. I ought to arrest you for tampering with the scene.”
“Do it - that isn’t important.” Brian said. “I got what I came for. Your men gave up before they found him last night. If I hadn’t come back to look, he could’ve died in that stairwell.”
Before the cop could argue with Brian anymore the final major structural support beam caved in, sealing the rest of the first floor and basement off from the rescuers.
The absolute finality the sound of the collapse made echoed in Brian’s head as he sat in the hospital waiting room a few hours later. His hand were treated for splinters and cuts and he’d been released. Justin was still being examined. He was dehydrated and covered in bruises and cuts from head to toe. His right arm and shoulder had also been badly broken. The doctors did not have a reply as to when Justin could expect to get back to work on any of his partially completed works that took up every available easel in his studio. Bones would heal, paintings and drawings could be finished later; Brian mused to himself. He was just thankful that his world didn’t collapse when the brownstone did.
Written By: dxsenorita
Timeline: Post 513
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Warnings: A scare, but nothing to be really worried about
Author's Notes: First QAF story I’ve written in quite a while, so it took me a while to find the boys’ voices again.
Inspired By Icon:
The slip of pink message paper was still tightly clenched in his hand as Brian arrived at the scene. Fire trucks with sirens and lights blaring roared past him - police cars following closely behind. He stared ahead in disbelief as he looked at the destruction - shattered glass, crumbled brick, and splintered wood littered the street around the SOHO brownstone. The trip from his plush corner office at Kinnetik NY had been a fast five block sprint. His heart was pounding in his ears as he arrived, but he knew it wasn’t from the run. Only one thing in the world ever made his heart beat this hard and fast. And right now, given the destruction, sirens and lights, he couldn’t find him.
The gallery opening was going to be huge. Justin had said that repeatedly since he and Brian signed the lease on the space. Brian told him he was only signing on as a silent investor and everything else had to come from Justin or his connections. He didn’t worry about it being successful because he knew that with Justin’s talent - his own artistic ability and his ability to get those around him to do whatever he wanted - everything would work out fine. But this was not in their plans. Really, who would ever plan for a building to collapse around them?
“Stay back!” A cop barked as he held his arm back to keep a crowd back from the scene as paramedics carried out a sheet covered stretcher.
“Has everyone been accounted for?” Brian asked, panting the words as he came to a stop behind the officer.
“Not yet. From all the reports, we’re still missing about five people - mostly those who were working in the gallery on the first floor.
Brian’s heart sank. While the officer didn’t say specifically that Justin was still trapped inside, he knew it. He stood there for as darkness crept in from the horizon and public works employees erected flood lights to help the rescuers see what they were doing. He’d completely worn the battery of his cell phone down fielding calls from Cynthia, Debbie and Jennifer.
“Sir, maybe you should leave a number and head home. We’ll call you when we find who it is you’re waiting to be recovered.” A young Red Cross volunteered as she held out a paper and pen to Brian.
“No, I’d rather wait for him.” He said. “They’ll rescue him soon.”
“If he was on the first floor or in the basement, they’re treating it as recovery mission. Due to the structural damage, the engineers say they doubt anyone could have survived to be rescued.” She offered her eyes sympathetic and her voice appropriately tinged with sadness.
“I would know if he was dead, miss.” Brian replied. “I would feel it just as sharp as a knife to the gut.”
She patted his arm and gave him another sad smile before offering her tablet to some of the others standing around. Most of them scribbled down a couple of names and numbers and left. Over the course of the next few hours, even more of the waiters drifted away, eventually leaving Brian the only one standing by the security barricade.
He took a seat on the steps of the building next to the brownstone as he continued to wait, watching as the workers slowly began packing things up for the night. One of the firemen came up to him and said that it was too dangerous for them to continue working in the dark but they’d start back in at first light. Brian nodded his head and said he’d return then as well. He wrapped his arms tightly around his midsection as he ambled back toward the office.
Cynthia was sitting at her desk finishing up a couple of reports when he stepped off the elevator. She could tell something was seriously off when she saw Brian.
“Oh my god.” She whispered as she slipped out of her chair and headed toward him.
“Don’t - we don’t know anything for sure yet.” Brian replied tiredly. “They had to stop the rescue efforts because of the darkness. They’ll start back on it at dawn. I’ll be there when they get him out.”
“Of course, they have to find him. They will find him.” She said resolutely not saying anything as she watched Brian change from his suit into the jeans and black shirt he had in the closet of his office.
“If I don’t find him first.” Brian said as he grabbed a few things from the office and headed back down to the brownstone.
Cynthia shook her head and stepped out of his way because she knew better than to attempt to stop Brian when he was this determined about something. Especially when that something was one Justin Taylor.
“Call me when you find him.” She called out as he stepped onto the elevator to leave again.
A simple curt nod of his head was all the response she got in return.
Brian drove to the brownstone this time - figuring that if and when he found Justin he’d need to get him to the hospital quickly and walking the 12 blocks to St. Anthony’s wasn’t going to cut it. The place was almost eerie in how it lacked activity even though just a few short hours before it was teeming with people coming and going. But as soon as the public works lights were taken down, it was as if any of the possible survivors or deceased people trapped in the remains of the building ceased to exist.
He took a deep breath and then began to pick through the rubble looking for a sign of anything that would lead him to Justin. Twisted beams of steel, chards of glass and broken concrete greeted him as he continued to dig into the remains of the building he and Justin held the lease of the first floor and basement of. He dodged falling debris as he moved deeper into the destroyed mess but he stopped when he heard a soft sound.
“Dear God, if you even exist, I’d do anything if you’d just promise me that you’ll take care of Brian.” A soft voice coughed out. “Don’t ever let him forget that I love him. I won’t forget that he loves me - even if he hasn’t ever told me such a thing.”
“Hold on, Justin.” Brian called out, rewarded with more falling chips of brick and splinters as his voice echoed against the hollowed-out remains.
He continued going toward the direction he heard Justin’s voice coming from, and heard him cough again.
“Talk to me, Justin, tell me where the fuck you are.” Brian commanded walking blindly toward what used to be the stairwell behind the main room of the gallery.
“I’m on the stairs, Brian.” Justin called out, again sending more debris tumbling down.
Brian made his way back to the stairwell and found the door, doing his best to ease it open so more of the building didn’t collapse on top of them. He sucked his lips in between his teeth at the sight of Justin curled up tightly on the step, dust and rubble all around him. Justin eased his way out toward Brian, cradling his right arm tightly to his chest. Brian halfway carried him outside where the two of them were greeted by the crews starting to set up to recover more victims of the building’s collapse.
“Do you realize you could’ve gotten yourself killed?” A gruff cop growled at Brian as paramedics pulled Justin from his arms. “You are fucking insane for going in there by yourself. I ought to arrest you for tampering with the scene.”
“Do it - that isn’t important.” Brian said. “I got what I came for. Your men gave up before they found him last night. If I hadn’t come back to look, he could’ve died in that stairwell.”
Before the cop could argue with Brian anymore the final major structural support beam caved in, sealing the rest of the first floor and basement off from the rescuers.
The absolute finality the sound of the collapse made echoed in Brian’s head as he sat in the hospital waiting room a few hours later. His hand were treated for splinters and cuts and he’d been released. Justin was still being examined. He was dehydrated and covered in bruises and cuts from head to toe. His right arm and shoulder had also been badly broken. The doctors did not have a reply as to when Justin could expect to get back to work on any of his partially completed works that took up every available easel in his studio. Bones would heal, paintings and drawings could be finished later; Brian mused to himself. He was just thankful that his world didn’t collapse when the brownstone did.