Chapter 35

                                    

                                          



Preparing for the flight back to Division was unimaginably dreadful. Because just a week ago, I was making a similar flight with my father. And now I was fatherless. It was obvious that at some point I would have to get over his death and move on but it's only been two days since the funeral. Only two days since I buried a man I thought would always be around.
                          
    It was my God given right to cry for a while.
                          
    Everyone kept telling me that it would get easier, that the sorrow would fade and the emptiness would fill. But I didn't believe them. I hadn't eaten a real meal in days, I hadn't slept in even longer. Every time I closed my eyes, or thought too hard, or lost control for just a single second, I saw him. Laying against that car, stomach ripped to shreds and blood pooling near his body. I saw him smiling at me for the last time as he ordered Lucas to pull me away. I saw him cling to Mr. Vasquez, holding his hand because he was no doubt terrified of dying.
                          
    I should have been the one he clung to. I should have been near him, holding him as he passed away.
                          
    Then again, I should have been the one who died. That bullet had been meant for me, Clint fired it at me. I assumed it missed because I saw it hit the wall. But it only hit the wall after it tore through my father, he pushed me out of the way.
                          
    He saved me. Again. I didn't deserve his sacrifice. I didn't deserve him as a father or a friend.
                          
    "You okay?"
                          
    My gaze turned to Lucas who was sitting next to me, watching me. I hadn't realized a tear slipped from my eye while my thoughts were focused on my father.
                          
    I nodded, attempting to hide my pain through a cracked smile. But Lucas saw past my efforts. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tear rolling down my cheek, "How many times do I have to tell you that you're an awful liar?"
                          
    "A couple more I suppose." I answered, also reaching up to wipe at my eyes. Our hands touched, sparked, then separated. I forced my hands back to my lap and Lucas retracted his touch from my skin as though I had scolded him for it.
                          
    Things between us were, rough. In light of recent events, I had forgiven him for trying to send me away. I realized he was trying to protect me in the only way he knew how. But something was different between us. Whenever we got too close, he pulled away. Whenever our eyes held for too long, he looked away.
                          
    Sometimes I wondered if it was because he had lost feelings for me, but deep down inside I knew that wasn't the problem. Maybe it was the drug or his impending death that had Lucas so shaken, I couldn't know for sure. But this distance he had put between us felt like a chasm and it was making the emptiness in my heart feel so much greater.
                          
    "How are you feeling?" I asked quietly, desperate for a change in subject. Lucas sat back in his seat, letting his head rest against the plane chair. He looked so terrible when compared to how he looked when I met him. His skin continued to pale, his body continued to thin, and the bags under his eyes continued to grow.
                          
    But those eyes, they were as bright as ever. Swirling with the colors of both the sky and the earth, all smashed into two beautiful gems which stole my breath if I dared to look too long. Those eyes would never change, no matter how his body did.
                          
    He was receiving injections of the serum twice a day now, the doctors hoped that would slow the drug's effects on Lucas' body.
                          
    However, I knew what Lucas thought, what the entire Vasquez clan thought:
                          
    Lucas hadn't much time left.
                          
    Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. Either way, I refused to believe there wasn't a way to save him. Anything was possible and there was always a way, we just had to find it. That was one of many teachings from my father.