I breathed slowly with my eyes closed, my right hand wrapped tightly around a gun that I hadn't even realized I possessed. Still, I wasn't about to put it down. Even as I struggled to remain conscious, even as my head swam with blood loss and sleep deprivation, I was fully conscious of one thing: I would not put the gun down. "Get-... Get away... from him..." I murmured, gasping for air. Something was sending sharp, cutting pain through my side every time I tried to breathe.

The man who had held me hostage had Rowen pinned to the floor. The shot I had fired several moments ago had nicked his shoulder and cause him to drop his knife. He was close enough that if I shot again, I couldn't miss. He knew that; I knew that. It was only a bet on whether or not I had enough strength left to pull the trigger a second time.

"You call him a murderer... and a coward... You say he killed your family-..." When I tried to raise my voice, I only coughed, sending blood splattering across the hardwood floor. Zane fussed over me, trying to take the gun, but I jerked it away and he flinched back at the wild swing of the dangerous weapon. I aimed the gun again. "You said he killed your family, but then you go... and threatened someone else's...?" The thought of what he planned to do to my parents crept up in the back of my mind and I saw those pictures again. I pulled the hammer back, ready for whatever consequences came my way. "How does that make you... any b-better than him...?"

He stood up slowly, turning to face me. He was a blurred image, swaying back and forth right in front of my eyes. "I didn't kill them-" he started.

"But you were going to...!" I said. The world was starting to go fuzzy too and I shut my eyes, trying to regain control. "You threatened them... you said you'd torture them..." I struggled to swallow the metallic in my throat. "If anyone's a monster... it's you..."

For the first time, guilt evident on Dover's face. Weak and coarse as my words were, they were true. He was a monster.

In the silence of the room, I started feeling drowsy again. Zane inched closer to me, reaching out for the gun again, begging me under his breath, "Just give me the gun. We'll sort this out. Please, just let us handle this."

All I had to do was look at him and he knew everything. How much I had gone through, how scared I had been, how tortured my conscience was after selling out a friend for my parents' safety. He knew. But most importantly, he knew how much he didn't know. In the same way that I didn't really understand what had happened to him a year ago, he didn't really understand what had happened to me.

Zane move away, looking towards Cliff shamefully who looked equally nervous about the current situation. Neither made any more attempts to take the firearm from me.

Despite the fact that no one, not even I, was comfortable with me holding a gun, the room was silent. In the quiet of dread, the more I looked at Dover and remembered the damage he had done, the more the fury bubbled inside me, reaching its whistling point. Finally, I'd had enough of the silence.

"You don't h-have the right to accuse him of anything..." I forced out. "You-...!" I gripped the gun and steadied my voice, though it took everything in me. "Do you think that you'll see your kid again... by murdering...? Is that what this is...?"

Dover didn't respond.

My shoulders were shaking, my hands too. I couldn't keep this up much longer. I raised the gun, aiming for his head. "I'm going to blow your-... b-brains all the way to hell..." I said. "Then you'll never see your p-precious little boy again."

The room fell into a dead silence as I hounded my own mind to do it, pull the trigger, shoot him, make it all stop right here and now! Just shoot him! 

Nothing happened. As I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make myself do what I wanted, Rowen stood up slowly. "No, you won't," he said, and I was almost relieved to hear those words.

As he approached, I looked up at him, a mess of trembling, bleeding, broken human who couldn't even fire a gun. Part of me feared he would be disappointed, but he didn't look the least bit dissatisfied. Instead, he looked sad. He crouched in front of me, gently pulling the gun from my hands; I let him have it. Wrapping a firm arm around my shoulders, Rowen pushed my face into his chest. "Don't look," he whispered.

His warmth enveloped me and I closed my eyes easily. It felt so comforting after so much pain... I could feel myself drifting off into oblivion. I barely heard the fading gunshots before I fell into a deep sleep...

*******

Sometime later; I knew it was much later because I felt rested for the first time in two weeks, I awoke. When I opened my eyes, it was dark. I could see a mute TV on the wall across the room. Besides that and some large pieces of machinery, the room was occupied by two chairs, a table, and the bed I was currently laying in. I tried to sit up, but my arms ached under my weight. I felt trapped again, held down by my own body, and I began to panic. Where was I? What had happened since the barn? I couldn't even remember blacking out.

"Hello?!" I called hoarsely. Why was my throat so scratchy? There was no reply and I tried to get up, fumbling around in the sheets as fear coursed through me. "Someone, please!"

Suddenly, I heard a door open and I turned towards the sound, searching for rescue. My mother stood with her hand on the knob, the other hand over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. I had never felt so relieved to see her in my entire life. "Mom..." I breathed.

She rushed to me, and held my face in her hands. "Kevin! Oh, I'm so glad you're awake! I thought I'd lost you!" she sobbed.

Her tears fell on my face and mixed with my own. I put my hands over hers, gripping the reality of it, feeling her close to me again. "Mom, I-... I was so scared...!"

She hugged me to her, engulfing me in the familiar warmth of her arms. "I know, baby. I was scared too..." she hiccuped.

I clutched her shirt, grounding myself. I was still confused. I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten there or if everyone else was okay, but... I knew my mother's arms. I knew I was safe, and for now, that was all that mattered. At least for a time, I could forget about the rest.

At one point or another, my father came into the room and there were more tears, laughter, and then even more tears. The doctor came and checked me, saying I was a miracle of science. By all accounts, I should have died from the injuries and blood loss I had sustained. Something about the radial artery only being knicked made it possible for the surgeons to stitch my arms. However, even the surgeons were in luck. The doctor said that whoever had patched me up before dropping me off at the hospital with my name written on my sleeve, did a pretty good job. Without their help, I wouldn't have pulled through.

Shortly after, the doctor told us that visiting hours were over and my parents needed to go home to get some rest. They didn't want to, of course, but he promised that I would be in good hands at the hospital; they had nothing to worry about. After a million hugs, goodbyes, and promises to be back the second that visiting hours opened up again, my parents finally left.

The room felt too empty after so much noise, but at the same time, it was peaceful. I closed my eyes with a heavy sigh. What a long nightmare this had all been. What a consolation it was to know it was over.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a creaking-scrape. I turned my head to the window and a small, relieved smile broke out on my face. With practiced agility, Rowen climbed through the window and into my hospital room. I sat up to greet him. "Hey..." I said, hoping he didn't notice how tired I sounded.

Wordlessly, he approached, lifting a hand up to brush my hair aside. He acted as if I'd break if he touched me directly. After several seconds of bare contact, Rowen withdrew. "You're ready for a beauty contest, cutie." He said it with a smile and a light laugh, but I could see the discomfort on his face. 

I forced a laugh myself and looked down at my lap. "Thanks... I-... I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you," I said.

He grabbed a nearby chair and sat backward in it, facing me. "Don't say that. You'd have made it back. Even if you had both your legs and an arm cut off, you would've clawed your way back," he insisted. "You'd be covered in dirt and grime, and I don't think we'd ever get the smell off of you, but-"

"What if I lost my other arm too?" I countered.

He paused, deep in contemplation. "Then you'd have rolled your way back," he finally suggested. 

We both burst into laughter at the mental image of me rolling through the woods to get home, nothing but a head and torso. With a stomach ache from joy rather than pain, I sat back and sighed contentedly. "Yeah, I guess you're right," I said. I looked out the window, my smile fading. "Jokes aside, I... I thought I was actually going to die. I was scared..." I admitted.

"Everyone gets scared, Kevin. Being scared is just human instinct," Rowen said. He smiled. "I was scared too. I was terrified," he confessed. "...Terrified that I wouldn't make it to you in time."

I watched him closely as his eyes dropped to the floor and he sighed to himself. Suddenly, I couldn't resist blurting out, "Were you scared then too? That night when you met him?"

Rowen didn't look at me. "You heard all that, huh?"

I regretted asking, but it seemed Rowen was willing to answer, even if he didn't want to.

"I was sacred. I was always good at reading people, but Frank... It scared me that, despite being on the run, he asked me to dinner and I didn't even think twice." Rowen sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "I never should have stopped at that house..."

I hesitated a long time before asking a second question. "Do you ever regret what you did?"

Rowen laughed, but it was pitiful and full of self-contempt. "Every day of my life. Taking the life of an enemy soldier is one thing, taking the life of an innocent child... Well, let's just say some things haunt you."

I couldn't imagine killing someone, let alone a child. "Do you ever wish you could change what you did?" I asked.

At this, Rowen's eyes drifted towards the window. "It sounds heartless to say, but... no, I don't," he said. "Like Frank said, I'm a murderer. Couldn't change that before, can't change that now. If given the chance to do it over again, I would do the exact same thing."

I frowned, tilting my head to look up at him. "Why?" I asked.

"I believe everything happens for a reason," Rowen said, exhaling sharply. "And changing the past changes the future. It's possible that I wouldn't know you if I had acted differently that day."

"Why does knowing me make such a difference?" I asked. "I've been nothing but trouble for you. I almost got you killed."

Rowen watched me for a minute, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what he was thinking. He expression was unreadable, yet there was a familiarity about it. Something I understood but didn't recognize. Rowen put his hand over mine. "Kevin, when I found you all cut up in that barn, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time," he said. "I felt my heartbeat. The sight of you, bleeding and dying... I was more scared than I've ever been, and my heartbeat was so fast that I thought it would burst right through my chest."

His words bounced around in my head, trying to find meaning in the spiraling mess of my mind.

"You did that, Kevin. You made me human again," he said. 

We stared at each other, my eyes welling with tears. "I don't understand what you're saying," I said. "What do you mean-"

"I love you."

My mouth went dry. All the air was sucked out of my lungs by those three short words. I didn't know what to say. Part of me felt elated, happy, overjoyed by the confession, but my mind was reeling with shouts of rejection and disbelief. Rowen loving me? Impossible, and yet, it felt so real.

"It's wrong of me to tell you all this right now, especially with you having just gone through so much, but I can't hold it in anymore," he said. He reached out and ran a hand through the tousle of locks that fell against my forehead. The clean feeling of my hair seemed to distract him. "I'm so selfish... but I just love you so much..."

"Rowen, please-" I started, but everything was moving so fast. I couldn't stop him even if I tried.

He turned my hands over so he could see my palms. He cradled them like they were the most precious things he had ever held. "I understand if you don't feel the same. I will respect your judgment, and I won't hold it against you," he said. "Just know that whatever your decision may be, my heart is yours to keep," he said. "It's in your hands."

My eyes settled on that small display of trust, affection, and care. Why my hands? Why me...? Rowen was waiting for a reply, but I couldn't speak. I couldn't say yes, I had my parents to think about. What would they think if I suddenly told them I was seeing an older man. I wasn't even out of high school yet. But at the same time... I couldn't make myself say no. There was no reason for me to accept, yet... I couldn't get that one-syllable word to pass my lips.

My silence stretched on too long. Rowen waited for me, but when I still did not respond, the room became achingly uncomfortable. Rowen cleared his throat. "I've kept you up long enough. You're still not fully recovered, so you should get some rest."

I looked up, wanting to protest, but Rowen wouldn't hear it. He silenced me with a single kiss on my forehead. Though it was fleeting, between us it felt dragged out, reluctant. "Get some sleep. I'll come to visit you every day," Rowen promised. 

My hands felt cold and numb when he set them in my lap. I watched him walk to the window and silently slip out into the night, careful to not alert the nurses as he left. Now alone, I stared at the window for a long time. I don't know how long, but I remembered the sun coming up, and the doctor coming in to check my vitals. He scolded me for not resting properly, but I didn't hear him. I remember my parents coming to see me, and some friends brought me flowers and cards. Zane even dropped by when no one was around to make sure I was doing okay.

The one thing that didn't remember was the creak of the window, or the silent footsteps crossing the room. I didn't remember waking up in the middle of the night to the careful caress of callous hands through my hair, or the reassurance of the protective figure. I waited for them. Some nights I even cried for them, but they never came. It was a one-syllable answer, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to say it. I should've said it. I should've told him.

*******

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