(sorry for the wait! I was sick, but this is a decently long (7 pages in google docs long)/intense chapter so I hope that makes up for it, and for the fact that this is unedited too... go figure, lol. enjoy xx)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EVELYN'S BREATH STOPS.

Her eyes snap shut with a new rush of tears still escaping them.

She waits to feel the cave of flesh, the crack of bone. She waits to hear the last breath leave his soft lips, the lips she only got to peck with barely a taste. She waits to feel his body stop trembling beneath her. She waits.

She waits.

And she waits.

It dawns on her that her arms have not moved. She has not moved. Her eyes open, hesitantly, and she's staring down at an equally shocked Harry as he winks one eye open. He'd been waiting for the blow, too. His cheeks are wet, but she's not sure if it's from her own fountain of tears or if he shed some himself. His confused yet hopelessly relieved eyes stare back at her, however, she doesn't allow herself to be relieved just yet.

She manages to dart her eyes over to the boy controlling her. Her body shakes, but now his is quivering too. His eyes are narrowed in focus, a trickle of blood leaking from his right nostril onto his thin lips. Some begins to ooze from his left ear. His hands are clenched tightly. His nails draw blood in his palms. Evelyn watches it drip onto the concrete. She listens to it splatter.

What's happening?

She feels another force pushing on her--more like pushing against her--and a slice of panic strikes through her at the thought of another child entering the arena. She can feel Harry's erratic breath on her face as her eyes roam frantically for the cause of this second tug.

Then she spots Maxie standing at the edge of the balcony, gripping the rail tightly as her eyes narrow with concentration.

To anyone, she looks like a girl worried for her friend.

To Evelyn, she looks like a disguised hero saving the day.

Evelyn lets out a shuddering breath of relief and stops fighting, knowing that it is Maxie who has gained control over her body. Instantly, she's off of Harry and on her feet, but her relief is short-lived. The child realized he could not fight with Maxie, so he takes over Harry instead. Evelyn can see it in the way his face contorts with struggle and dread, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as he stands tall in front of her.

Maxie keeps ahold of Evelyn, aware that given the chance the child would drop Harry and switch to Evelyn, only to keep going back and forth between the two to prolong the inevitable. Evelyn doesn't fight with Maxie, which makes her much more graceful than she had been under the reluctant control of the child. She sidesteps easily from Harry when he lunges, then the two are facing off again.

Evelyn's hand tightens on the knife--she isn't sure if it's her own doing or Maxie's.

Harry bares his fangs--definitely not his own doing.

The crowd releases a deafening roar of excitement and anticipation.

Evelyn's eyes skirt the perimeter of the arena to where the child stands, eyes on Harry, though he's seemingly more exhausted than before. She feels her body begin to navigate nonchalantly towards him by Maxie's control. Her chest constricts of its own accord, however. She does not want to relive the feeling of murdering a child. She cannot possibly cope with that enormity of guilt.

Suddenly there's a yank on her hair, then her back slams hard on the concrete. She sees stars in her vision, her head feeling very light. She blinks hazily, just as Harry crouches on top of her, one hand roughly gripping her chin while the other snatches the knife out of her palm. And though she feels the pain, Maxie cannot and forces Evelyn to fight back. She kicks Harry in the stomach, futilely at first, then harder the second time. He falters only a second, long enough for her to grip his belt loop since he has no shirt to grasp, and she pulls hard enough to toss him off of her. She stumbles to her feet, still feeling the impact from landing.

Harry growls viciously, though his eyes plead for her forgiveness. She doesn't need to forgive him--there is nothing to be forgiven. Just as he knew it wasn't her trying to kill him, she knows it isn't him trying to slaughter her.

Evelyn's eyes glance around Harry to the child.

Maxie makes her feet move.

Evelyn sprints, barely ducking under Harry's arm as he tries to catch her, and barrels into the child who hadn't prepared for her abrupt and risky move. His back hits the arena wall, which makes him whine and makes Evelyn fill to the brim with sorrow. She presses an arm to the boy's throat, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to keep him in place. Maxie keeps control over her so he cannot take over.

Then Harry is there, now himself since the child's concentration had been broken. He grabs the kid from Evelyn, presses his finger into the side of the child's neck, and the boy falls limp in Harry's arms. Evelyn lets out a shaky breath as Harry gently sets the boy on the ground, his eyebrows furrowed with shame--and pity.

Evelyn feels Maxie leave her with a jolt, and a different breath of relief escapes her lips. She wiggles her fingers just to ensure she's doing it herself. She looks to Harry as he raises his hands, also confirming he's in total control again.

Just as she's about to leap into his arms, the floor quakes beneath their feet and the stadium rattles as a distant explosion is set off.

She stumbles and lands into his arms anyways, his grip instantly tightening protectively around her. She looks up in confusion at the clear blue sky above, not even a cloud in sight. Then she looks at the stands and notices everyone else is just as bewildered and anxious, clutching each other and murmuring curiously.

"Now, let's stay calm," Wolf says from the balcony, glaring at Evelyn and Harry but knowing he needs to keep his people in order to maintain authority. "I'm sure it was--"

Another explosion, closer this time, and the floor shakes so violently it knocks Evelyn off her feet. She's lucky for Harry's reflexes. Few in the stands aren't so lucky. Some fall forward over the railing that raises them from the arena floor, and they land face-first with groans and moans and bloody noses. Maybe even some broken bones.

"What's going on?" Evelyn asks, knowing Harry hasn't the faintest idea.

"We need to get back," he replies instead, intertwining their fingers before breaking into a run towards the doors leading to the stairs up to the balcony.

Evelyn is worried the place may crumble before they can make it back down, but she can't leave any of her friends or her brother up there. They're the only family she has left; she'll be damned if she loses any of them.

Wolf is too distracted with trying to settle down the hysterical crowd trampling each other for the exits to notice Evelyn and Harry enter the balcony room. Wolf has sent his guards down to man the doors, so it's easy to usher the kids, Max and Killian back out onto the stairs, where Harry takes them two at a time with a serious expression etched into his agitated features. She knows he's listening too hard when the third explosion rings, agonizingly close, and Harry hisses through his teeth, stammering to a stop as he covers his ears. If Evelyn feels the need to cover her ears, she can't imagine the pain Harry's hyper-sensitive ears are feeling.

She grabs his wrist and keeps running for the door that leads outside, Max hot on her heels as he carries Robbie with Killian carrying Caroline and Maxie staggering along. She looks weak and tired, but she doesn't complain about the running as she follows. Evelyn feels a swell of admiration for the young girl.

Evelyn nearly screams when she hears planes zooming overhead. Planes! When was was the last time she heard an actual airplane? When the bombings were occurring during the war, airplanes were a threateningly sound that urged everyone to their nearest and safest shelter. It appears the trait has not yet died, and it sends a chill down Evelyn's spine with too many terrifying memories resurfacing.

But who's bombing Wolf's camp and why?

She considers the idea that it could be the doctor. Perhaps he hadn't "loaned" the child to Wolf rather than Wolf stole it, but somehow that doesn't seem right. The doctor would have made a grand entrance to show his power, not drop bombs over the camp. He wouldn't want the collateral damage, and he certainly wouldn't want his audience to be nonexistent. He likes to make a scene, not break it apart.

So then who?

And if Wolf isn't the threat, how many enemies does Evelyn have now?

There's too many sides in this war to keep track of.

They beat the crowd outside since everyone is still tackling each other to make it through the narrow doorways. Another plane zips by, instinctively causing Evelyn to fall to her knees and cover her head. Harry hauls her up, assuring her it's all right and that they have to keep moving. She catches sight of blood leaking from his ears.

"Harry--"

"I'm fine," he cuts her off.

Killian's voice breaks through. "What about Micah?"

"He and Gavriel are smart," Harry replies calmly. "They'll get out."

Killian doesn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he doesn't stop running nonetheless. Evelyn can feel her lungs contract as her breaths continue to come shorter and shorter, her legs already weak and her stomach in knots.

The next explosion is so close the dirt beneath them cracks and their group goes flying in different directions.

Evelyn's ears are ringing. She can barely hear herself breathing. She uses her palms to push herself off the ground, her eyes hazy while scanning the area. She spots Harry, already on his feet and tending to Robbie, who's cradling his leg with tears running down his cheeks. Killian is lying on his back after saving Caroline from enduring the brunt of the impact. Max is sprinting towards her, though his steps are clumsy and he blinks like he's dazed.

"Come on, Evie," he says, gripping her under her arms. "You have to get up."

"Robbie," she slurs, leaning against him once she's on her feet. She must have hit her head on the ground pretty hard to feel so loopy.

"I lost my balance and he lost his grip. The force of the explosion threw him off of me, and he might have broken his leg but he's fine," he assures her quickly. "Harry says he'll be fine."

Evelyn heart aches for the boy, but she nods and tries to help Max by making her feet move on their own. She manages a little, but her steps are even sloppier than his and she nearly trips over her own feet more than once.

Killian is scooping Robbie up right as Harry begins to run off. Back into the building full of chaos and bound to be the target of the next bomb.

"Harry!" Evelyn yells, though weakly. Is he crazy?

"I saw Sasha," he calls back, giving her big, innocent eyes that beckon her to trust him. She does. "She's why we're here, isn't she?"

Of course she is. Evelyn can't leave without her, and Harry knows that.

Before she can say she's coming with him, he uses his advanced speed and disappears, leaving Evelyn with a sick feeling in her stomach.

***

Erik clutches Sasha in his arms, holding her head down against his shoulder. She can feel rather than hear his heart pounding. His body is stiff and on alert. She doesn't know what's going on. Erik told her she shouldn't look. She hears people screaming. She smells blood--she knows the scent far better than a girl her age should.

She wants to make sure Locke is still with them, but luckily he speaks since she can't look up. "The exits are jammed, Erik! We're trapped."

Sasha can her hear own heart beating rapidly.

Erik grumbles under his breath, something inaudible and incoherent with the panicked hollers. Then he shouts back to Locke, "This way!" and suddenly Sasha feels him jump before landing hard, holding her impossibly tighter. Then they're running, and Sasha finally feels frightened tears well up in her throat.

"Shouldn't we be going down?" Locke asks worriedly.

"Everyone is going down," Erik replies. "If we can make it to the balcony hallway, we can take the stairs that lead out of here."

"Erik, I'm not sure if--holy shit, isn't that Harry?"

Sasha slings her head up too fast for Erik to prepare for, her eyes immediately devouring the pandemonium in search of her friend. She finds him easily, for he's the only one climbing up and over the arena wall. He uses the bleachers like stairs, his eyes on them.

"Put me down," Sasha says, squirming.

Erik does so, his own bewilderment stunning him for a moment.

Sasha starts carefully going down the bleachers, but she only makes it down two before Harry is there. She jumps, instantly latching her arms around his neck and he catches her around her small middle, squeezing her gently. She remembers the first hug she ever gave him. He didn't know what a hug was then.

"You made it!" she shouts, unable to stop herself. She doesn't want to let go. She's scared to.

Harry smiles at her and sets her down on the bleachers, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. "Did you ever doubt we'd come for you?"

She grins. "Never."

"Yeah, um, I didn't either," Locke adds in. "A little late, in my opinion, but I appreciate the gesture."

Harry smirks and the two shake hands.

"I've never been happier to see you," Erik admits, letting out a breath. "Did Davon find you guys, or did you find us yourself?"

"He found us," Harry says. "But we can talk about that later. Right now we need to--"

He cuts himself off, abruptly picking up Sasha again only to hunch over her. She's confused briefly, then the bomb strikes.

Right in the middle of the arena.

The blow is so forceful, Harry and Sasha are thrown all the way to the top of the stands, smacking into the bleachers painfully, though Harry tried to take most of the impact himself. Sasha whimpers as she feels a sharp pain in her side and her ears feel like a siren is blaring in them. She coughs with the smoke of debris swirling around her. She sees people scattered everywhere. The ones who were scrambling for the exit are mostly lying still while others are missing limbs and crying out.

Sasha realizes if they hadn't started climbing up, she could be dead too.

Before she can dwell on the terror, Harry is grabbing her hand and picking her up again. "Are you all right?" he asks, panic flashing in his eyes.

She nods meekly, still clutching her side.

Then she hears a terrible crack.

"Sasha," Harry says, his face suddenly very serious. "Listen very carefully. This building is about to fall apart, but I need you to stay calm and trust me, okay? Can you do that?"

She nods again, firmer this time.

"Good girl. Come here." He turns around and motions to his back, so she leaps onto him and holds on tight.

That sickening crunch echoes throughout the crumbling stadium once more. She looks over her shoulder when people scream at once and sees half of the building already collapsing, concrete and bricks crushing anyone underneath. She tries to desperately search for Erik and Locke, but Harry is running too quickly and she can't make out any faces. She sends a quick yet faithful pray that they make it out okay too.

The flooring to the stands begins to quake beneath them.

Sasha winds her arms so tightly around Harry's throat she's afraid she's choking him, but she can't help the fear that causes her to start trembling.

"It's okay," he says. "I've got you, yeah?"

She lays her head on the back of his shoulder in response.

Harry is running, still at the top of the stadium trying to avoid the catastrophic rubble down below to make it quickly to the balcony, having the same plan Erik did. Sasha feels wetness on her cheeks, but she reminds herself that she trusts Harry with her life. Quite literally. He's saved her too many times--he's saved too many people in general--for her to not believe in him.

Then the floor gives away and they're falling.

No, not falling. More like flying.

The stadium had been enormous to begin with, but now as Sasha sees the ground quickly approaching beneath her, she realizes how tall and large it truly is. She screams, her fear making her lose her grip on Harry and suddenly she's flying by herself, flailing and crying and screaming for her mommy.

But then Harry is there again, pulling her into his chest with his large, strong arms secure around her small frame. He seems to be rotating them in the air, but she shoves her face in his chest, not wanting to see when they'll both be flattened into pancakes. She doesn't want to see the blood pooling around them. She screams again, only this time to block out the crunch of their bones when they land.

Though she's still on Harry's chest wrapped in his arms when they land, her body jolts with the impact and her breath gets caught in her lungs. Her chest smacks into his collarbone, but other than that she's completely unharmed. Or at least she thinks she is. She doesn't feel pain anywhere except in her side from where she collided with the metal bleacher earlier, and now her temple where she knocked into Harry's defined collarbone.

She's scared to lift her face. She'll wait for Harry to move first.

His arms slacken around her, but he does not get up. She'd expected him to be quick to his feet to keep moving. Since she was unharmed, surely he would be too.

But after a few minutes he still doesn't move.

She tries to listen for his heartbeat, but it's either too faint to hear or not beating at all.

Panicked, she pushes herself up, his arms dropping from around her to the ground. She looks at his face, at his eyes fluttering like they can't decide if they should close or not. There's blood around his head. A lot of blood. So much blood it makes Sasha gag.

"Harry?" she whispers, cupping his cold face in her small hands. "Harry, wake up."

It doesn't take long for it to dawn on her that he had rotated them in the air so he would hit the ground and not her. So she would live, even if it meant he wouldn't.

"Please," she croaks, tears dripping down her cheeks. "Don't leave me, Harry. I need you. A-a-and Eve needs you. And R-Robbie and--"

She breaks out into sobs, her chest aching terribly.

She has to do something. She can't let him die. She tries to remember her lessons with Gregory. He hadn't told her much about the battlefield except that every soldier looks out for each other. She has to stop the bleeding. That's right. Isn't it?

She scrambles off of him, then uses all of her strength to roll him onto his stomach. She takes off her t-shirt, for once glad that she had training today because she has a tank top underneath. She balls the cloth up, then gently starts to separate his hair to look for the wound. His hair is matted with blood and clumpy. She tries not to acknowledge it on her fingers.

She finds a cut, almost like a slice, that's bleeding profusely. She doesn't know how he can survive such a fall, but surely he can. Harry survives everything. Harry doesn't die. He can heal himself. She knows he can. She just has to give him time to do so.

She presses her shirt against his head firmly. She doesn't know what to do if this doesn't help. She doesn't see anyone around except those dead or struggling to get away with severe injuries. She does all she can think to do and screams for help. It isn't much, but maybe someone decent will hear her. Maybe Locke or Erik will hear and come rushing over. Erik would know what to do. He could save Harry.

Sasha cries as she watches the blood soak into her shirt, gradually but inevitably. She clenches the fabric in her fists if only to keep her hands from shaking. She hollers again, more desperate this time yet also quieter as her strength begins to die out. She's exhausted. She's in despair. She's mourning.

Then there's a shout, and Sasha decides no matter who it is, she'll consider them her savior for eternity.

"Sasha!"

She whips her head around, but keeps the cloth in place.

She cries harder when she sees Micah stumbling for her with the determined experiment on his heels. "Micah!" she yells. "H-Harry... he's..."

Micah reaches her, and the other experiment kneels beside Harry's head. "He's still breathing," the stranger says, giving Sasha an approving look. "You're very smart to roll him over."

Sasha is crying to hard to care about his compliment. The stranger takes over holding the t-shirt and Sasha collapses into Micah. "It's my fault. H-he came to save me a-and now he's... he's..."

"It's all right," he whispers in her ear, hesitating a moment before stroking her hair. "It's not your fault, Sasha."

She wants to argue that it most definitely is her fault, but she can't find the determination for it. She puts the rest of her energy into sobbing.

Then she hears the stranger say, "I never thought I'd say this, but it's a damn good thing the doctor operated on you again."

And her heart flips when she hears Harry's voice reply: "Why is Sasha crying?"