Post by DarkestofDays on Jul 11, 2005 13:24:54 GMT -5
“I don’t think we should stay here dad; Keating and Wilson are going to be circling us like sharks until we give them what they want…” Alastair said, swiftly picking up Weston into his arms to keep him from scampering off into the forest.
“You have to consider that it’s not the time to be traveling Alastair. Derory Keating is on his deathbed and cannot possibly be moved, not to mention that both Nora and Julia are pregnant. I’m afraid we’re all but trapped here until whatever comes to pass does so in both situations…” Amity replied, sighing afterwards as he realized just how hopeless the situation was.
“They’ve got us right where they want us, don’t they…?” Alastair set Weston back onto the ground, watching him run off with the other homunculi children towards the house, where Maria had laid out a plate of cookies for them to snack on. “They’re just waiting for our most vulnerable moment, and then any and all happiness or tranquility we’ve managed to find is going to be lost…”
“Don’t walk that way Alastair. You can’t give up hope, we’ve made it through similar situations and come out alive; I don’t want you talking that way around the children. They look up to you and if you stop believing that one day things can be right again then they will as well…” Amity said quietly, rubbing his eyes and looking towards his son again. It had been so long since he had looked at his son and seen anything but a blur of fiery colors that revealed the alchemic energy streaming through him. Alastair sighed and half-angrily kicked a rock out from in front of him, cursing under his breath.
“Dad…do you honestly believe that we can find a cure for this sickness…? I mean honestly…” Alastair turned back to face his father, a solemn expression coming over him. “Because in truth, I’m getting the sense that not even you believe in this, that you already might have given up…”
“I’ve felt tempted to before, but I can’t look into the eyes of those children or your own without having my hope and energy rekindled. There is a cure out there somewhere, it’s just a matter of finding it and engineering it, and then everything will be right again…” Amity’s tone faltered near the end, weakened by the knowledge that some of the damage already done could never be repaired.
“I hope you keep believing that…” Amity turned back towards his son, who was staring off into the cloudy sky overhead, predicting if it would rain or not. “Because you’re the one who’s keeping this hope alive dad, for all of us…”
Amity remained silent, taking this in.
“I’m going to go for a walk in the forest, I’ll be back before sundown…” Alastair took off into the forest, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants and his expression steadfast ahead of himself. Amity watched his son vanish into the woods and turned back towards the house, keeping a watching eye over the children and still tossing around what his son had said in his mind.
Alastair stayed on the beaten path for a short while before venturing off of it, reasoning he could always follow the trail of alchemic energy he left back to the Wilson estate.
He sighed and paused in a small clearing, where the fading light of day poured down on him. “I just wish that I could believe in dad’s philosophies on life and on hope, but during times like there…I don’t know, I guess maybe I just don’t have the drive that he does…” he started walking again, keeping his gaze low and towards the thick foliage underfoot. “Maybe there is a cure out there…but the question still remains…are we ever going to find it…?”
He suddenly heard a rustling in the bushes behind him, and turned expecting to see one of the children, having followed him into the forest. Instead, two fierce emerald eyes glared at him from the darkness of the shadows.
“Keating…” Alastair began backing away, nearly tripping over some exposed roots and fallen branches, attempting to keep his gaze on his enemy.
Keating stepped out from the darkness, the light cast on his pale flesh and ominous black State uniform he had fashion, a slit cut into the fabric at his wrist to reveal the Oroburos mark. “How unwise of you to wander into the forest on your own; have you learned nothing of your encounters with Cassius and myself?” his tone held a mocking tone of discipline, and this made Alastair slightly angrier. “Didn’t your father ever tell you not to go off on your own without an escort?”
Wilson suddenly emerged from behind Alastair, standing but a few yards away with his arms crossed behind his back in a superior fashion, the general glaring at Alastair as he froze where he was attempting to flee and faced him. “Indeed, a child as sick as you should be watched at all times. After all, what if you had a severe attack out here, or something happened to you…?” Wilson’s face suddenly contorted with a horrible grin, and Alastair felt his blood run cold. He instantly acted on his instinct to run, and fled into the forest, running blindly in any direction except towards the house. He wanted to keep the two madmen away from there at all costs, even though his mind kept urging him to return to his father for aid.
He ran in circles he knew, sensing his own alchemic trail, but he could hear and sense them following him, matching his pace to keep him running as best he could until he ran out of strength. A good portion of time had passed before he finally felt his legs give out, and he finally was forced to come to a halt where he saw another bright clearing ahead. He rushed through the sharp and punishing thorns that blocked his path, and froze with horror at what he saw before himself.
The earth beneath his feet was caked with dust and grime, all plant life that had once clung to it having died away long ago, and cracks unceremoniously cobwebbed the surface of it, expanding as he stepped onto it. For a second he questioned the inexplicable lifelessness, and then his eyes fell onto the sliver of rushing crimson that was but a few feet ahead of him. He felt his skin crawl and his blood begin to stir and rage with the levels of alchemic energy suddenly surging around him. The red water streamed along the earth silently, trickling down the path of a now consumed creek. It was shallow, glimmering stones jutting from the otherwise unbroken surface, as though they were trying to escape it.
“Red water…but…but how…?” Alastair’s mind was spinning from both the overpowering energy and it’s abrupt and strange appearance there, but his attention was quickly diverted when he suddenly felt someone tightly grip both his shoulders, and he froze, his mouth agate and his eyes still staring transfixed at the water, as though it had taken on a whole new dimension.
“I can tell you how…” Keating’s voice was ominous, barely above a whisper, as though it were some sort of secret to be kept between them. Wilson was nearby, staring at the stream of deadly fluid with an almost proud expression, admiring the decay and rot the red water had already caused to the forest. “You see, when Misery destroyed Laboratory No. 5 two months ago, he neglected to realize that he couldn’t possibly eliminated every vat of red water that was stored in that place. In fact, much of it managed to survive the attack he laid upon that building, spilling out into the sewage system and making it’s way out here into the forest…”
“That’s…that’s why…” it was all becoming incredibly clear to him, even as he had to repress the urge to shake with fear. “That’s why all those children have been dying lately, why their illnesses have gotten worse…this red water has been contaminating the environment in a close enough proximity that it’s harming them…”
“Precisely…” Keating said, a smirk coming upon his face. “Not that it didn’t have help, Cassius and I have been making sure that it goes right where we want it to. Do you know where it’s heading now…?” A soft laugh escaped the general’s mouth as he finished this statement, and Wilson chuckled darkly as well, looking down the stream with the same look of pride he had had before.
Alastair gasped, his entire body stiffening with horror as the realization struck him. “It’s…oh God, it’s heading towards Matthew’s house…”
“That’s right…” Keating said, sounding utterly amused. “In just shy of day that water will seep through the floorboards and earth around and within that household, killing all those who carry the disorder…”
Alastair attempted to thrash his way loose, but his body was being greatly weakened by the energy, and Keating’s grip was too strong for him to break.
“Now, now…” Wilson suddenly muttered, taking a few steps towards them both. “We still have someone that has yet to arrive, wouldn’t want them to miss what we have planned…”
“What are you talking about you bastard…?” Alastair spoke through clenched teeth, his fists shaking as he silently feared what was to come.
“Well, we can’t exactly just let you go now can we? After all, we’ve just revealed to you what we have planned; it wouldn’t be wise having you run off and tell everyone what is to come, now would it…?” Wilson taunted, and Alastair felt his body shake more as he realized that his chance of escape couldn’t be any lower. “But first we have to wait until someone else arrives…and here they are…”
Alastair turned and watched in terror as his father stumbled out from the forest, staring at the three of them with a look of equal fear and surprise. Amity took a few steps towards them, suddenly looking defensively angry, though he too was visibly shaking.
“Let go of my son you bastards…” Amity demanded, his voice low with rage but holding a debilitating weakness that was fueled by his fear. Alastair thrashed a bit more and Keating simply halted all his efforts by wrapping an arm around his neck, strangling him slightly as Alastair continued stubbornly to try and wrench his way free.
“Sorry Warren, but we don’t take orders for State physicians…” Wilson laughed, stepping in front of Keating and Alastair with a humored expression. “Besides, it wouldn’t be very responsible for us to place anyone in your care, what with you being blind and everything…”
“I said, let my son go…” Amity’s anger quickly began to subside into terror as he continued approaching, realizing how dangerous the situation truly was. He had heard their discussion from a distance, and could sense the boiling energy of the unwelcome death beside him. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want me to, just don’t hurt Alastair…”
Alastair managed to loosen Keating’s grip enough to speak coherently. “Dad, what the Hell do you think you’re doing?! Run damnit!”
“You should listen to your son,” Keating murmured, “Not that you would get very far, but still…”
“I’m not leaving without my son…” Amity declared, but a few steps away from where Wilson stood with a casual air, his hands shoved into the pockets of his uniform and a smirk on his face.
Keating laughed darkly, so much so that Amity felt the color drain from his face. “Then you aren’t leaving at all…” Keating suddenly began moving towards the stream, dragging Alastair along with him, who was faltering more and more as they approached the source of the torturous energy. He let out several pained cries that he couldn’t repress, his flesh burning red and sweat pouring from his feverish flesh. What was happening impacted Amity like no other force, and he attempted to run to his son, who was too weak to resist anymore, his legs shaking as he attempted to break Keating’s grip and escape the excruciating pain. But as Amity did so, Wilson reached out and seized him, restraining him so he was facing Keating and his son, but couldn’t move another inch. He fought and thrashed with all his might but couldn’t move, and could only watch helpless, tears pouring down his cheeks.
“I’ll do anything…anything…just don’t…don’t kill my son…not my Alastair…” his voice was incredibly weak and shaking, his mind so distraught it didn’t even register the fact that the stream was causing him some pain as well, though with a minor disorder it was nothing compared to Alastair’s suffering.
Keating stared at him for a moment, as though taking in the sheer terror and sadness that had destroyed Amity’s seeming unbreakable calm, and then he smiled faintly again, his voice barely above as whisper as he spoke.
“I promised you back in Laboratory No. 5, that if you ever betrayed us, I would make you suffer the worst of pains…” his grin became wider, and to Amity, it was as though time had suddenly slowed until it was hardly moving at all.
“And now, it’s time to carry out that promise I made…” Keating’s hands suddenly let go of Alastair. His son spoke quietly towards him as he fell, his weakened body plummeting down towards the thin stream of crimson water that had flowed unbroken.
“Keep…hope…alive…”
It was almost instantaneous. The energy channeled through his body so quickly it did not convulse, and then Alastair laid there, unmoving, his face partially lying in the red water. A thin slither of darker crimson flowed from the base of his head, dissipating into the water itself.
Amity couldn’t even process anything for a moment. Every moment flashed before his eyes, remembering his son’s childhood memories, watching him grow up at a distance from the confines of the State, recalling every time he had had to lecture him about conjuring up storms when he was angry. All the memories came on in an onrush, his smiles and tears, his wife and two sons standing proudly with him, and then suddenly…
…all of that was lost.
Amity screamed, his voice echoing out through the forest in absolute anguish and pain, and he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face and his entire body shaking, looking everywhere desperately for some twinge of human energy that said his son was still alive. But there was nothing but the glimmering red of the stream, only a faint outline of his child’s body resting peacefully in it.
Wilson tossed him to the ground, both he and Keating laughing at him as he crawled beside the stream, finding his son’s form by painfully reaching his hands into the water, pulling him out and removing him from the stream as because he could, finally coming to rest a few yards from it and holding his son tightly, his stare unblinking into the distance.
“Let’s leave him to reconsider his actions…” Keating said, turning and vanishing into the forest once more.
“Remember this Warren, remember what happens when you don’t succumb to the fact that there is no hope…” Wilson followed after his comrade, both their energies disappearing into the distance within a moment.
Amity continued holding Alastair’s body there, feeling the immense heat of his son’s flesh against his own, and the trickling of blood from his head where his body had ruptured, unable to withstand the energy pouring into it. He rocked back and forth, tears pouring silently down his face, and he kissed his son’s forehead, laying Alastair’s head on his shoulder as he continued holding him close, unable still to get himself to believe he was gone.
“My son…my son…” he cried, “It should have been me…it should have been me…” He sat there for another few moments, still holding him and praying with all his remaining strength that Keating and Wilson return and take his own life before the temptation came for him to do so himself. “God…God, you shouldn’t have suffered this Alastair…you tried so hard to hide your pain, always…not just the disorder, but when your mother and I separated…when I wasn’t there for you when Vincent was forcing you into the vicious web of the State…all of that and you never revealed any suffering…” Amity sobbed, resting his head atop Alastair’s. “Even as you were dying…you said nothing but to keep the hope alive…Alastair…without you there is no hope for me to cling to anymore…”
He paused, hearing thunder in the distance, as well as the patter of rain coming closer, disturbing the fallen leaves strewn everywhere. He smiled faintly, standing and holding Alastair like an infant in his arms, with all gentleness and caution as though he were that. “It’s like…it’s like you used to say…people have…have no appreciation for storms and rain…they hate the lightning and thunder, when it’s the rain that brings new life…” Amity’s eyes fell onto the stream, realizing swiftly that with the rain it would increase in it’s speed towards Matthew’s house, though his concerned for this was severely dulled as he held his dead son in his arms.
“I’m sorry I can’t mourn you now…I have to…warn the others…” he held Alastair closer to himself, feeling the warmth of his body beginning to fade into lifeless cold. He walked slowly, even as the rain began to make the red water flow more rapidly, attempting to keep his son still and calm in his arms.
“I’ll keep the hope alive…for you…my son…”
“You have to consider that it’s not the time to be traveling Alastair. Derory Keating is on his deathbed and cannot possibly be moved, not to mention that both Nora and Julia are pregnant. I’m afraid we’re all but trapped here until whatever comes to pass does so in both situations…” Amity replied, sighing afterwards as he realized just how hopeless the situation was.
“They’ve got us right where they want us, don’t they…?” Alastair set Weston back onto the ground, watching him run off with the other homunculi children towards the house, where Maria had laid out a plate of cookies for them to snack on. “They’re just waiting for our most vulnerable moment, and then any and all happiness or tranquility we’ve managed to find is going to be lost…”
“Don’t walk that way Alastair. You can’t give up hope, we’ve made it through similar situations and come out alive; I don’t want you talking that way around the children. They look up to you and if you stop believing that one day things can be right again then they will as well…” Amity said quietly, rubbing his eyes and looking towards his son again. It had been so long since he had looked at his son and seen anything but a blur of fiery colors that revealed the alchemic energy streaming through him. Alastair sighed and half-angrily kicked a rock out from in front of him, cursing under his breath.
“Dad…do you honestly believe that we can find a cure for this sickness…? I mean honestly…” Alastair turned back to face his father, a solemn expression coming over him. “Because in truth, I’m getting the sense that not even you believe in this, that you already might have given up…”
“I’ve felt tempted to before, but I can’t look into the eyes of those children or your own without having my hope and energy rekindled. There is a cure out there somewhere, it’s just a matter of finding it and engineering it, and then everything will be right again…” Amity’s tone faltered near the end, weakened by the knowledge that some of the damage already done could never be repaired.
“I hope you keep believing that…” Amity turned back towards his son, who was staring off into the cloudy sky overhead, predicting if it would rain or not. “Because you’re the one who’s keeping this hope alive dad, for all of us…”
Amity remained silent, taking this in.
“I’m going to go for a walk in the forest, I’ll be back before sundown…” Alastair took off into the forest, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants and his expression steadfast ahead of himself. Amity watched his son vanish into the woods and turned back towards the house, keeping a watching eye over the children and still tossing around what his son had said in his mind.
Alastair stayed on the beaten path for a short while before venturing off of it, reasoning he could always follow the trail of alchemic energy he left back to the Wilson estate.
He sighed and paused in a small clearing, where the fading light of day poured down on him. “I just wish that I could believe in dad’s philosophies on life and on hope, but during times like there…I don’t know, I guess maybe I just don’t have the drive that he does…” he started walking again, keeping his gaze low and towards the thick foliage underfoot. “Maybe there is a cure out there…but the question still remains…are we ever going to find it…?”
He suddenly heard a rustling in the bushes behind him, and turned expecting to see one of the children, having followed him into the forest. Instead, two fierce emerald eyes glared at him from the darkness of the shadows.
“Keating…” Alastair began backing away, nearly tripping over some exposed roots and fallen branches, attempting to keep his gaze on his enemy.
Keating stepped out from the darkness, the light cast on his pale flesh and ominous black State uniform he had fashion, a slit cut into the fabric at his wrist to reveal the Oroburos mark. “How unwise of you to wander into the forest on your own; have you learned nothing of your encounters with Cassius and myself?” his tone held a mocking tone of discipline, and this made Alastair slightly angrier. “Didn’t your father ever tell you not to go off on your own without an escort?”
Wilson suddenly emerged from behind Alastair, standing but a few yards away with his arms crossed behind his back in a superior fashion, the general glaring at Alastair as he froze where he was attempting to flee and faced him. “Indeed, a child as sick as you should be watched at all times. After all, what if you had a severe attack out here, or something happened to you…?” Wilson’s face suddenly contorted with a horrible grin, and Alastair felt his blood run cold. He instantly acted on his instinct to run, and fled into the forest, running blindly in any direction except towards the house. He wanted to keep the two madmen away from there at all costs, even though his mind kept urging him to return to his father for aid.
He ran in circles he knew, sensing his own alchemic trail, but he could hear and sense them following him, matching his pace to keep him running as best he could until he ran out of strength. A good portion of time had passed before he finally felt his legs give out, and he finally was forced to come to a halt where he saw another bright clearing ahead. He rushed through the sharp and punishing thorns that blocked his path, and froze with horror at what he saw before himself.
The earth beneath his feet was caked with dust and grime, all plant life that had once clung to it having died away long ago, and cracks unceremoniously cobwebbed the surface of it, expanding as he stepped onto it. For a second he questioned the inexplicable lifelessness, and then his eyes fell onto the sliver of rushing crimson that was but a few feet ahead of him. He felt his skin crawl and his blood begin to stir and rage with the levels of alchemic energy suddenly surging around him. The red water streamed along the earth silently, trickling down the path of a now consumed creek. It was shallow, glimmering stones jutting from the otherwise unbroken surface, as though they were trying to escape it.
“Red water…but…but how…?” Alastair’s mind was spinning from both the overpowering energy and it’s abrupt and strange appearance there, but his attention was quickly diverted when he suddenly felt someone tightly grip both his shoulders, and he froze, his mouth agate and his eyes still staring transfixed at the water, as though it had taken on a whole new dimension.
“I can tell you how…” Keating’s voice was ominous, barely above a whisper, as though it were some sort of secret to be kept between them. Wilson was nearby, staring at the stream of deadly fluid with an almost proud expression, admiring the decay and rot the red water had already caused to the forest. “You see, when Misery destroyed Laboratory No. 5 two months ago, he neglected to realize that he couldn’t possibly eliminated every vat of red water that was stored in that place. In fact, much of it managed to survive the attack he laid upon that building, spilling out into the sewage system and making it’s way out here into the forest…”
“That’s…that’s why…” it was all becoming incredibly clear to him, even as he had to repress the urge to shake with fear. “That’s why all those children have been dying lately, why their illnesses have gotten worse…this red water has been contaminating the environment in a close enough proximity that it’s harming them…”
“Precisely…” Keating said, a smirk coming upon his face. “Not that it didn’t have help, Cassius and I have been making sure that it goes right where we want it to. Do you know where it’s heading now…?” A soft laugh escaped the general’s mouth as he finished this statement, and Wilson chuckled darkly as well, looking down the stream with the same look of pride he had had before.
Alastair gasped, his entire body stiffening with horror as the realization struck him. “It’s…oh God, it’s heading towards Matthew’s house…”
“That’s right…” Keating said, sounding utterly amused. “In just shy of day that water will seep through the floorboards and earth around and within that household, killing all those who carry the disorder…”
Alastair attempted to thrash his way loose, but his body was being greatly weakened by the energy, and Keating’s grip was too strong for him to break.
“Now, now…” Wilson suddenly muttered, taking a few steps towards them both. “We still have someone that has yet to arrive, wouldn’t want them to miss what we have planned…”
“What are you talking about you bastard…?” Alastair spoke through clenched teeth, his fists shaking as he silently feared what was to come.
“Well, we can’t exactly just let you go now can we? After all, we’ve just revealed to you what we have planned; it wouldn’t be wise having you run off and tell everyone what is to come, now would it…?” Wilson taunted, and Alastair felt his body shake more as he realized that his chance of escape couldn’t be any lower. “But first we have to wait until someone else arrives…and here they are…”
Alastair turned and watched in terror as his father stumbled out from the forest, staring at the three of them with a look of equal fear and surprise. Amity took a few steps towards them, suddenly looking defensively angry, though he too was visibly shaking.
“Let go of my son you bastards…” Amity demanded, his voice low with rage but holding a debilitating weakness that was fueled by his fear. Alastair thrashed a bit more and Keating simply halted all his efforts by wrapping an arm around his neck, strangling him slightly as Alastair continued stubbornly to try and wrench his way free.
“Sorry Warren, but we don’t take orders for State physicians…” Wilson laughed, stepping in front of Keating and Alastair with a humored expression. “Besides, it wouldn’t be very responsible for us to place anyone in your care, what with you being blind and everything…”
“I said, let my son go…” Amity’s anger quickly began to subside into terror as he continued approaching, realizing how dangerous the situation truly was. He had heard their discussion from a distance, and could sense the boiling energy of the unwelcome death beside him. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want me to, just don’t hurt Alastair…”
Alastair managed to loosen Keating’s grip enough to speak coherently. “Dad, what the Hell do you think you’re doing?! Run damnit!”
“You should listen to your son,” Keating murmured, “Not that you would get very far, but still…”
“I’m not leaving without my son…” Amity declared, but a few steps away from where Wilson stood with a casual air, his hands shoved into the pockets of his uniform and a smirk on his face.
Keating laughed darkly, so much so that Amity felt the color drain from his face. “Then you aren’t leaving at all…” Keating suddenly began moving towards the stream, dragging Alastair along with him, who was faltering more and more as they approached the source of the torturous energy. He let out several pained cries that he couldn’t repress, his flesh burning red and sweat pouring from his feverish flesh. What was happening impacted Amity like no other force, and he attempted to run to his son, who was too weak to resist anymore, his legs shaking as he attempted to break Keating’s grip and escape the excruciating pain. But as Amity did so, Wilson reached out and seized him, restraining him so he was facing Keating and his son, but couldn’t move another inch. He fought and thrashed with all his might but couldn’t move, and could only watch helpless, tears pouring down his cheeks.
“I’ll do anything…anything…just don’t…don’t kill my son…not my Alastair…” his voice was incredibly weak and shaking, his mind so distraught it didn’t even register the fact that the stream was causing him some pain as well, though with a minor disorder it was nothing compared to Alastair’s suffering.
Keating stared at him for a moment, as though taking in the sheer terror and sadness that had destroyed Amity’s seeming unbreakable calm, and then he smiled faintly again, his voice barely above as whisper as he spoke.
“I promised you back in Laboratory No. 5, that if you ever betrayed us, I would make you suffer the worst of pains…” his grin became wider, and to Amity, it was as though time had suddenly slowed until it was hardly moving at all.
“And now, it’s time to carry out that promise I made…” Keating’s hands suddenly let go of Alastair. His son spoke quietly towards him as he fell, his weakened body plummeting down towards the thin stream of crimson water that had flowed unbroken.
“Keep…hope…alive…”
It was almost instantaneous. The energy channeled through his body so quickly it did not convulse, and then Alastair laid there, unmoving, his face partially lying in the red water. A thin slither of darker crimson flowed from the base of his head, dissipating into the water itself.
Amity couldn’t even process anything for a moment. Every moment flashed before his eyes, remembering his son’s childhood memories, watching him grow up at a distance from the confines of the State, recalling every time he had had to lecture him about conjuring up storms when he was angry. All the memories came on in an onrush, his smiles and tears, his wife and two sons standing proudly with him, and then suddenly…
…all of that was lost.
Amity screamed, his voice echoing out through the forest in absolute anguish and pain, and he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face and his entire body shaking, looking everywhere desperately for some twinge of human energy that said his son was still alive. But there was nothing but the glimmering red of the stream, only a faint outline of his child’s body resting peacefully in it.
Wilson tossed him to the ground, both he and Keating laughing at him as he crawled beside the stream, finding his son’s form by painfully reaching his hands into the water, pulling him out and removing him from the stream as because he could, finally coming to rest a few yards from it and holding his son tightly, his stare unblinking into the distance.
“Let’s leave him to reconsider his actions…” Keating said, turning and vanishing into the forest once more.
“Remember this Warren, remember what happens when you don’t succumb to the fact that there is no hope…” Wilson followed after his comrade, both their energies disappearing into the distance within a moment.
Amity continued holding Alastair’s body there, feeling the immense heat of his son’s flesh against his own, and the trickling of blood from his head where his body had ruptured, unable to withstand the energy pouring into it. He rocked back and forth, tears pouring silently down his face, and he kissed his son’s forehead, laying Alastair’s head on his shoulder as he continued holding him close, unable still to get himself to believe he was gone.
“My son…my son…” he cried, “It should have been me…it should have been me…” He sat there for another few moments, still holding him and praying with all his remaining strength that Keating and Wilson return and take his own life before the temptation came for him to do so himself. “God…God, you shouldn’t have suffered this Alastair…you tried so hard to hide your pain, always…not just the disorder, but when your mother and I separated…when I wasn’t there for you when Vincent was forcing you into the vicious web of the State…all of that and you never revealed any suffering…” Amity sobbed, resting his head atop Alastair’s. “Even as you were dying…you said nothing but to keep the hope alive…Alastair…without you there is no hope for me to cling to anymore…”
He paused, hearing thunder in the distance, as well as the patter of rain coming closer, disturbing the fallen leaves strewn everywhere. He smiled faintly, standing and holding Alastair like an infant in his arms, with all gentleness and caution as though he were that. “It’s like…it’s like you used to say…people have…have no appreciation for storms and rain…they hate the lightning and thunder, when it’s the rain that brings new life…” Amity’s eyes fell onto the stream, realizing swiftly that with the rain it would increase in it’s speed towards Matthew’s house, though his concerned for this was severely dulled as he held his dead son in his arms.
“I’m sorry I can’t mourn you now…I have to…warn the others…” he held Alastair closer to himself, feeling the warmth of his body beginning to fade into lifeless cold. He walked slowly, even as the rain began to make the red water flow more rapidly, attempting to keep his son still and calm in his arms.
“I’ll keep the hope alive…for you…my son…”