You're Only Dead

by Jack Parker

  Kurt jerked and was struck once again in the face. He could feel blood skirt across his tongue. Just then he saw the first gunman reentering the room, a syringe in hand, hurrying towards his leader and stopping at his side to begin rolling up his sleeve for him.

  Thompson watched his henchman ready the needle with eyes that were beginning to glaze over. "Administer this and round up the others," he instructed as the needle penetrated his skin. "Leave these four to m—"

  Suddenly, Thompson was jerking back, gripping his arm with a wild look. The man who had injected him appeared confused. Thompson sneered, his eyes widening as he looked between his arm and the man's face. "Sir?" he asked.

  "You bloody idiot!" Thompson hissed. He raised his gun, shooting his own man point blank in the face and backing away clumsily as he held his arm.

  Kurt winced at the sound of the shot, looking between Thompson and the dead man quickly. He couldn't work out exactly what occurred, but Thompson was grimacing in pain, examining his arm in a strange way that was both sluggish and frantic.

  "By the way," Victor stated gravely beside him. "I dumped all your naloxone and replaced it with ammonia."

  Thompson curled a lip and stared out at Victor incredulously.

  Victor stared back. "Guess you don't see everything, huh?"

  Thompson's face was white as a sheet, his mouth hanging open and wild wrath spilling from his eyes. He raised his gun again, this time at Kurt. That's when Emery inelegantly slung himself to the side into Thompson's leg and sent him stumbling, causing the shot to fall short of its mark and instead hit the guard holding Kurt down directly in the temple. The man cried out, thudding down onto Kurt below him. Kurt coughed out a breath as the body collapsed over him.

  He could barely see over the man's corpse, but it was clear that Thompson had been knocked over. The gun had skidded away. Kurt began to try and free himself desperately, one arm pinned underneath the body on top of him and the other pushing hard to try and roll it off. Victor was falling towards him a moment later, twisting with difficulty to force his wrists towards Kurt's free hand. "Untie me," he ordered. "Untie me, come on, fast!"

  Kurt reached out his hand and scrabbled at Victor's bindings. After a bit of work it was loosened and Victor flung it off, scrambling to his feet and darting off to slide back to his knees in front of Emery and catch him just as he was about to land face first into the concrete. Kurt summoned every bit of his strength and shoved the body away from him before finding his feet as well and rushing over to where Thompson had fallen.

  His great, stretched body lay prone, arm groping out for his lost weapon. Kurt stepped on the arm hard, drawing a cry of pain, and snatched the gun off the ground. Thompson stared up with a scowl for a long moment, then huffed and closed his eyes. "Don't you see what you've done…? You can't save him now…In the end, he'll be dead just the same…and everything you did…will be a miserable waste…"

  Kurt raised the gun. "Not everything." Then he fired one more shot into the villain's head. His gangly form convulsed, then was still.

  Kurt turned immediately back to Emery. He was slouched limply against Victor.

  "Em. Hey, Em, you hear me?" Victor was asking, propping him up by the shoulders.

  Kurt bent down close as well, reaching back to hurriedly untie Emery's hands.

  "Victor…" Emery croaked.

  Victor gripped his face, staring into his eyes. They shone back brightly, but his pupils were virtually nonexistent. His lips were blue. Victor took one of Emery's hands and examined it. "Fuck. Fuck, he's ODing."

  "How do you stop it?" Kurt demanded, taking hold of Emery's shoulders himself. "What do we give him?"

  Victor sat back, fisting a hand into the hair on the top of his head. "Well I fucking dumped it! All of it—I-I didn't know the fucking nutjob was gonna shoot him up like this!"

  Kurt watched as Emery's hands lethargically reached up to grip his biceps in an attempt to steady himself. "There's got to be another way."

  Victor nodded rapidly and leapt to his feet. "I only found the guy's personal stash; there's gotta be more." With that he dashed away, skidding back to Georgie and bending down to tear away her bindings and pull her up. As soon as she was free she pounced on the nearest dead gunman and pilfered his weapon, checking the chamber. "Stay here," Victor told Kurt, thrusting a finger at Emery. "Georgie and I will go scour the med bay. You keep him awake. Whatever you have to do, just do not let him fall asleep. You get me?"

  Kurt nodded and clutched Emery's shoulders tighter. His eyes followed Victor and Georgie as they bolted out the door before he pushed Emery back, worriedly scanning his disoriented face. "Emery, love…" he said. "You're alright now. You'll be alright."

  Emery blinked repeatedly and forced a nod with great effort.

  Kurt stroked his hair and rubbed at his face emphatically. "Just keep your eyes open."

  "It's very cold," he whispered.

  Kurt swallowed heavily and took Emery into his arms, rubbing him briskly for warmth and locking his eyes desperately towards the exit as he prayed for Victor's swift return.

  * * *

  "This way!" Victor called to Georgie as they ran through the now abandoned hallway towards the med bay. He knew the Dutchman's men still could be lurking around every corner, but his adrenaline was sky high and every thought had dissolved into a singular purpose. Fuck, why had he gotten rid of every single vile? It had seemed like such a sound plan at the time: hit the fucker with a massive heroin high and sabotage his antidote. And it worked, too. But Christ…he hadn't expected this.

  They charged through a set of doors and found themselves at the bottom of the stairwell, which they began to leap up. Victor found a few dead gunmen halfway up, but they'd been stripped of weapons already so he kept going. "Victor, be careful," Georgie called, her gun raised as her eyes flitted about warily. "His men are still everywhere."

  Victor half listened and came to a halt at the top of the stairs to the second floor, scanning the halls for more troops. When it was clear he beckoned Georgie and they continued on as fast as they could. If he remembered correctly, it was just a few more halls down before they'd be at the medical bay. Surely it would have to be stocked with something useful. Emery couldn't fucking die like this—not after everything. He was just to the second hallway when the doors to the nearby elevator suddenly opened, and a group of men filed out, aiming guns at them.

  Victor lurched to a halt, eyes wide. Georgie stopped short behind him.

  The closest man lowered his gun with a sneer, looking between them. "The fuck are you doing here?"

  Victor realized with a burst of relief that these weren't the Dutchman's men. They were Hennessey's. "The Dutchman's dead. Clear this joint out," he said.

  "I don't take orders from you, ya daft yank."

  Victor huffed, veering around him to continue on quickly. "Okay. Keep those thumbs up your asses, then—we'll be back."

  "Where you goin'?" the man called in confusion, but they were already around the corner and jogging.

  "They've gotten in," Georgie observed with wonder. "They've actually made it in."

  "And hopefully they can hold off those clowns long enough for us to sort our shit. Come on. We've got to fucking hurry—he doesn't have much time."

  Georgie picked up her pace obediently and soon they were approaching the medical bay. Victor pulled forward and stumbled to a stop at the entrance, but paused momentarily to stare in shock. Ludkov was still there. Or at least his body was…Victor had well learned to recognize the pallor of death. "Fuck," he sputtered.

  "Aleksei!" Georgie gasped, suddenly beside him. Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.

  Victor clenched his eyes shut before shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shit…" He looked at Georgie, who was rooted to her spot, her large green eyes filling up fast with tears. He stood in front of her and tried to pull her with him into the room and away from the scene. "Georgie, come on."

  Sh
e made a pained noise and he grabbed her shoulders.

  "I know, I know Georgie, but we have to move, come on. Emery's gonna die if we don't hurry!"

  Georgie scrambled with him into the room and joined him as he began tossing cupboards and cabinets at breakneck speed. "What am I looking for?" she asked, her voice wrecked.

  Victor swiped a handful of dissolvable suture packs onto the floor and slammed the drawer shut before moving to the next. "Naloxone—Narcan, Evizio, uh, o-or nalorphine, Lethidrone—anything with those names on the label! And find me some epinephrine!"

  He plunged into the next cabinet, eyes swiping furiously over its contents and hands throwing every useless item aside. There had to be something in here. This place manufactured heroin; it would just be fucking stupid not to keep loads of this shit around. Hold on, Em, Victor thought urgently. Just hold the fuck on.

  * * *

  Emery's world swam in laps around him. Images seemed to fully pass in front of his vision even though he wasn't turning his head, leaving him confused and nauseous. His stomach burned. He didn't know if he was awake or asleep, alive or dead. Suddenly he was jarred back towards reality by a voice, and Kurt…Kurt was in front of him.

  "Don't close your eyes."

  Emery clutched the bicep in his hand harder and tried to obey. Those words seemed so familiar. Like he'd just heard them somewhere…

  "Stay awake, Emery. Victor will be back soon. Just stay awake for me."

  Kurt's voice was a comforting sound, even if it seemed strained and worried. "I'm…not feeling well…" Emery slurred softly. "I think I should…lie down."

  "I know. You're sick, but Victor's nearly here. He's going to help you, but you mustn't lie down, Emery. You musn't sleep. Do you understand?"

  He didn't understand. Not anymore. All he knew was that everything had gone wrong and it was his own doing. "I'm so sorry, Kurt…"

  A hand rubbed his cheek. "No more apologies. No more blame. It's going to be alright."

  He was so tired… All of his energy was gone. He felt like claws had sunk into every muscle in his body and were dragging him gradually down towards the center of the earth. His blood felt like tar squeezing through his veins in slow motion. Like it might never again reach his heart.

  "Look at me," Kurt demanded.

  Emery tried. Kurt was still in front of him, propping him up, as he hadn't realized he'd been falling forward.

  Kurt closed his eyes for a long moment before opening them. "Forgive me for this."

  Pain cracked across Emery's brain as an open hand struck him in the side of the face hard enough to have knocked him over if another hand hadn't been holding him up. He blinked in shock, world crashing back into hazy focus, flexing his jaw. "Bloody fuck…"

  "There, that's it, eyes open," Kurt encouraged. "Are you awake now? Do you hear me?"

  "Yeah," Emery agreed, grasping tightly at Kurt's arms and gazing around with wide eyes.

  "Good. Good, just keep with me, love."

  Emery shook his head. "I-is he dead? Is he gone?"

  Kurt was nodding in front of him, hands on either side of his face to keep his head still and mercifully curb the spinning. "Yes, he's dead. We've done it—all of us."

  Emery managed a sigh of relief and gripped Kurt's wrists. "Stubborn git…" he muttered. "Oh, I told you to stay safe…to stay away. Why don't you ever listen…?"

  "You know full well I'd never leave you again."

  "Well I'm bloody glad you're here," Emery attempted in good humor, but it came out as a pathetic sob. Suddenly the tears wouldn't stop.

  "Emery…Emery, don't cry," Kurt pleaded, frantically wiping off his tears with a shirtsleeve as if it would erase their cause as well. "Please don't cry. It's alright."

  "I don't mean to cry I…I just feel so sick, I…"

  "Shh, I know. Try not to think about it. Let's just talk about something else, shall we? Hm?"

  Emery sniffed hard and nodded, but the exhaustion was quickly creeping back in. His world was becoming nonsense. "Kurt, I…I'm not sure how much longer I've…"

  "Easy now. Focus on me."

  Emery drew his eyes back to Kurt and attempted to do as he was told. Kurt stared back at him, worry plain on his face. He stared numbly into his partner's eyes, picking out the sparse green flecks of his irises, and began to feel a blessed wave of calm fall over him. Not much to fear now…Kurt's enemy was dead, and he would be safe. Perhaps things had gone wrong, but it all turned out right…

  "We'll go home after this," Kurt promised. "This will finally be over. I've missed my home."

  Emery wanted to smile, but couldn't muster it up. Nevertheless it was a pleasant thought. He'd missed home as well. His brain began filling up with warm memories, a rosy sort of euphoria that took the shape of a tapestry of images draped across his mind. How they'd first arrived at that barren Canadian flat to nothing but a collapsing bookcase and a naked bed. It was dusty and ugly from disuse, but his heart had pounded with elation at the thought that this would be his new home. He and Kurt had immediately set to work fucking on the bed before having the chance to put sheets down, drunk on new love. …Lazy days between jobs in which they'd lay about on the couch all day. How it didn't take long before for Kurt, reserved and prickly to the touch with anyone else, showed himself to be the cuddliest bloke Emery had ever met. How the flat was small and always smelled like whatever had been cooked last. Usually that was a good thing. Decorated up nicely for Christmas…Kurt kissing him in some shop under mistletoe like a bloody teenager…a box in his lap…in it, a vibrant spider…

  "Emery! No, no," Kurt was saying, and his voice was shifting. Emery gradually began to realize that he wasn't on his knees anymore. He had fallen over and Kurt was trying to right him, with little success. "Get up."

  He couldn't comply. Eventually he came to rest in Kurt's lap, who had pulled him there and was trying to shake him awake. He managed to keep his eyes open.

  "Emery, look at me. That's it. We'll go home. We'll…take another vacation. We'll have earned that, don't you think?"

  Emery stared up at Kurt tranquilly. He felt such simultaneous sadness and joy. He loved Kurt terribly, more than he ever knew he could love another person, more than he supposed his heart was capable of after all of the death and betrayal. And Kurt, his poor, perfect Kurt, who had been through so much agony already. It was so unfair. So wretched that now Emery would die as well. And he knew he would…he could feel the tethers to this world slipping. The clouds were rolling in on him and it took every ounce of his willpower to see Kurt through the mist. "…Kurt…" Emery whispered up at him. "You've made me so happy…"

  Kurt's features melted into severe alarm and he bent over Emery quickly. "Don't speak to me in finalities. Don't do that to me."

  Emery stared up at him warmly and with great effort brought his hand against Kurt's cheek. Kurt clutched it there. Emery studied his face wearily and combed through another flood of memories. The first time he'd seen Kurt smile. The perfectly terrified look on his face when Emery had first told him the words "I'm in love with you". How secure his embrace was…How warm his laugh…How the Cabo sun had dyed those lovely chestnut highlights into his hair…that had never…truly…faded…

  "Wake up!" Kurt was saying gruffly. "Please, please speak to me, please don't leave me…"

  He felt so serene now. For a moment he could hear his mother's voice. Feel her hands on his face. Her kiss on his head. Telling him to find peace…and perhaps that's where he was finally headed.

  "Victor!" Kurt called in a panic, but there was no answer.

  Emery's eyes slowly reopened.

  "Emery…" Kurt gripped him harder, pushing his head down against Emery's. "…Ohne dich kann ich nicht leben…"

  Emery dragged a stuttering thumb across Kurt's cheekbone. Perhaps it wasn't fair. Perhaps it wasn't right. His new life had only really just begun. The real one. The one he was supposed to be living. But even if Emery's life had only lasted for two short years, it had be
en worth every bloody second… "Don't be afraid…" he soothed.

  Kurt's voice seemed to be getting further away even though Emery could feel his breath on his ear. "Stay awake. Stay awake, I'm begging you. I'm begging you, liebling, I'm begging you…"

  "…my sweet darling…"

  "Emery, no."

  "My sweet Kurt…"

  "Victor, please! Where are you?!"

  Emery could no longer keep his eyes open. They closed, and the world seemed to close with them.

  "No, no, d-don't—" Kurt's breath hitched violently. "Don't stop talking, don't stop talking to me, please, please…"

  Everything was getting quieter…everything faded to the slow beating of a weakening heart…

  "Emery!"

  …And then that, too, was gone…

  "Emery!"

  * * *

  "Victor!" Georgie cried.

  His head snapped to attention, arms still deep in a cupboard of drugs. Georgie was yanking something out and thrusting it at him. An EpiPen.

  "This—is this it?"

  "Yes," Victor exclaimed in both affirmation and momentary triumph. "I just need to find the goddamn—" he cut himself off as he tore open the next cupboard, and there it fucking was. Narcan; a whole goddamn shelf's worth. His heart leapt into his throat and he grabbed it like it was the solution to his starvation, clumsily tearing a hypodermic needle from the cluttered countertop and racing out of the room. He didn't slow to see if Georgie was following, but he could hear her shoes on the tile. He blew past the cluster of Hennessey's men that had accumulated in the hall, oblivious to their shouting, diving down the stairs. Like he had never run before, Victor ran.

  …But he would be too late.

  Chapter 31

  It was a cloudy day, just like it always was, or at least like it had been as far back as he could remember. The rain was something you didn't really associate with drear and dank after a while. It was just what home felt like. That's all you really thought about it. Rainy and damp and gray—must be England…that's all. Emery Fletcher slowly looked down from the sky to gaze at the world around him.