#I told you I could never kill altora

[savetheamazingcakes]

Part 3!

In a time that is certainly soon, but feels far too long, Amare is nearly at the lab’s doorstep, already yelling for someone–anyone–to open that damn door.

Faintly, shuffling is heard through the other side as a member of the ACOTKU grumbles about it being far too late for this. The worker opens the door and scrunches their face up at the sight of two dirt street rats on the doorstep. “P-please h-help him! I’m b-begging you, please! He c-can’t die yet! He’s b-bleeding out and- and-”

“We ain’t a charity. It’s way too late fer ya ta be out here. Come back in the mornin’.”

“B-but I can’t w-wait ‘til mornin’!”

“It’s only an hour away, anyone can wait that lon–”

A soft looking cheraloo steps up next to the rude worker with a questioning look on their face. “Who’s at the door– Oh my goodness! Step inside; quick quick! We need to get the little one checked out–”

“Ey, we’re closed! Ya can’t let these rats in!”

“Let me do my job, iji! Get the operation room ready!”

“But–” the other cheraloo levels a glare at their coworker. “Fine.”

“We need to hurry. Hand him to me and I can–”

As the worker reaches her dirty, rotten talons for his brother, Amare hisses. “Don’t hurt him!”

The worker raises her talons placatingly. “I took an oath to care for shoats like you, I’ll do what I can.”

Amare stares with distrust, but knowing he has no other options, he offers his brother to the woman. He doesn’t like this, but what choice is there? This lady is already a blessing with her willingness to help. 

How genuine is this help, though?

How soon until she puts them into a debt they can’t hope to pay, even with Amare’s hopefully future position within the ACOTKU? 

He can’t help but wonder things along these lines as he waits impatiently by the door, hesitant to step into the white room that makes up the lobby of the lab. The room isn’t empty of decorations, but it feels barren. It’s impersonal, as a lobby usually feels, but the white walls do it no favours. 

Once a drop of rain lands on Amare’s head, causing a slight discomfort, he sucks it up and walks over to one of the plastic chairs.

Amare sits, his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He thinks. He doesn’t usually dwell on things, but this is so much worse than his brother going to a boarding home. He tries to close his eyes and doze off, but images of his brother’s dying body and tear stained face stick to his eyelids as though they were glued there.

How did it all go wrong so quickly? Why did he have to let himself blow up at his brother like that? The day was going so well, but he lost his temper over the stupidest thing. He doesn’t want his brother to meet Lady Death over this. Over his mistakes. Amare sighs. No use in spiraling, but what else is there to do but dwell? Once it’s all over, they can go home, Amare can pass his exam, and they can both get better lives. Right? Surely Altora will pull through. He couldn’t possibly die yet. 

…

Right?

Hours passed in what crawled on like days. The jerk that wouldn’t let them in would exit the room occasionally, leaving to grab supplies. Why was he getting more stuff? Were they just dissecting him now? Was he already dead? Were they just giving the poor teen false hope?

The answer, as it turned out, was no. When he finally had enough of it, slamming his hands on the armrest and speaking ‘calmly’, “Have ya h-hurt him w-worse than ‘e already is?”

“Eugh, why would we dirty our operatin’ room with more o’ his grime than necessary? No, he’s not hurt worse! We’re fixin’ him alright!?” The mean worker refuted in an awfully rude manner.

Amare simply glared and sat himself back down. As much as he wanted to throttle the man, he needed to remain calm and not get himself kicked out of the lab. It was raining, and that did not mean pleasant things for him if he were to wait outside. He crossed his arms and turned his gaze to the floor. There was a burning behind his eyes. He needed to stay strong. 

More time passed before the kind worker stepped out of the operating room. Amare looked up with hopeful eyes. “I have some news. Would ya like the good or bad, first?”

The teen’s expression dropped. “Th-the b-bad news?” He held his breath.

“Well, the bad news is yer brother ‘ad severe damage ta ‘is liver. The thing was totalled. We couldn’t keep it. The good news, ‘owever, is that we were lucky enough to have a transplant on hand, so he’s gonna be just fine.”

A sigh of relief left Amare as his muscles went lax and he collapsed into the chair. His brother is okay! Altora is gonna be okay! He’s alive! A light chortle left his mouth in relief. “When can I see ‘im?”

“As soon as we get ‘im ta a better room. ‘M sure ya don’t wanna see ‘im in the waitin’ room.”

“He’s in the what?”

“The waitin’ room before ‘e gets put inta a room ta recover.”

“Oh. Okay.” Amare just stared blankly. He’s so happy, but he’s just…so tired. The exhaustion weighs on his mind as he blinks slowly, the clear vertical covering barely showing. Black spots start to cover his vision. He collapses to the floor, the surgeon barely catching him in time.

— — —

Altora woke up slowly, the world around him a daze. Muffled voices spoke above him, sounding as though they were spoken through water. A soft touch to his headfeathers sent pleasant sparks dancing in his head. His brain felt like slush, melting out of his head. Everything was too muddled and too bright. He whined lightly, closing his eyes and falling back to sleep in the soft touch to his head.

The next time he woke up, his mind was much more clear. It was still murky, but he could sort of understand the voices speaking above him. One held the characteristic low, scratchy warbles and chirps of his brother. The other was much cleaner, holding a quickly rising and dropping pitch most cheraloos had when speaking common. The ups and downs made his head hurt. He heard a high sound that must have been his voice. It felt scratchy and worn. A hand was brought to gently pat his head, causing a trill to unwittingly be released from him. It was nice. The claws lightly scratching his head was nice. Everything felt nice and fuzzy except for his throat. That hurt. “‘Ey b-bud, ya feelin’ any better?” asked the lower voice.

He whined in reply, unable to form words in his throat at the moment. “Shhh, i-it’s alright. Y-ya need a drink?”

Altora nodded. That sent his brain spiraling in dizziness. He resolved to not shake his head anymore. “I can go grab some if ya need. I’ll leave ya two to yer reunion,” said the other voice. It was in his native language, meaning much easier on his ears. The clacking steps of talons on the floor started and faded. A curtain opened and closed. 

The room was silent, save for the breathing of him and his older brother. The silence was nice, it didn’t leave him holding his breath, waiting for something to happen. They sat for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. This felt like the calm after the storm, the time where everything finally dies down and the survivors of the wreckage begin rising. The Lady had not taken him that time, and he was more thankful than ever.

All feeling suddenly hit him, the events of that night and the sensitivity of his body causing him to feel overwhelmed. It was a lot. Tears welled up in his eyes and he dove for his brother, engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug. Amare stood there for a moment, frozen by the sudden speed of his previously groggy brother. After a moment, however, he wrapped his arms around him, buried his face in his brother’s feathers, and cried. They both sat there for however long it took for the lady to come back, sobbing in relief at the sight of the other. They were going to be okay. Apologies were in order, but those could wait a bit longer. 

The lady quietly opened the curtain, pretended there weren’t two children sobbing into each other’s arms, and set down the glass softly. She swiftly left the room, silently as she entered. The two were left to each other, and in the exhaustion of crying, Altora fell asleep. He was still drugged on painkillers to high heofon, after all. Amare sighed when he felt his brother finally go lax; he set him down lightly onto the bed, kissed his forehead, and sat down by his bedside. 

The exams were in two days, at this point. Amare pulled out his notebook and textbook. This cursed thing caused his brother harm, but it’s the thing that will get them out of major future danger. He can’t be forced to leave his brother because of war. He sat for hours by his brother’s bedside, rereading his notes and double checking the book. 

The younger continuously woke up and dozed off that day and the next. He barely had the energy to stay awake for a few hours at a time. The day of exams had come when Amare realized he would need to leave his brother for that brief period. He didn’t want to. He almost couldn’t bring himself to, but he steeled his nerves and called for the nicer worker. She and the other guy were the only people there constantly, and it turned out she didn’t do much else than care for patients during the day. “Y-yer sure he’s gonna be okay if I leave ‘im?”

“O’ course, hon. I can keep an eye on ‘im while ya go do yer exam. He’ll be safe with me.”

Amare looked at her for a lie, any sign she would betray him at the slightest moment. Her eyes held only the truth. Satisfied with what he found, he gave a slight tilt to his head–a small nod, if you will–and walked through the curtain. His pawed feet made no noise, despite the claws that should have been clicking on the floor. The exams were waiting. His future was waiting.

PART 1          PART 2