Warnings: Yes...consider yourself warned. If I tell you what kind, that would ruin the surprise. The title should be a fairly big clue, though.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The sound of a gunshot, a whiff of gunpowder and the ground rushes up to meet him.

His thoughts are muddled and he wonders vaguely if he’s going to be sick. It may have something to do with the way the dusty earth tilts beneath him yet remains flat and solid against his cheek.

He waits for the nausea and vertigo to fade.

He can already sense the pain, lurking like a hungry predator, waiting to catch him unawares and snatch his ragged breath from his lungs.

Knees land in the dirt next to him and he hears a voice – a voice that sounds maddeningly familiar – frantic and hoarse and clogged with emotion.

Someone turns and lifts him, wraps arms around him and cradles him close. It takes a long while for him to recognize his brother. He wonders when exactly it grew so cold and just how much blood he’s lost.  

He tries to ask Scott but all that comes out of his mouth is a gurgled moan. Arms tighten around him and he finds himself being rocked like a frightened child.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Don’t try to talk, alright?”

His brother sounds like a frightened child, too. Johnny comes to the conclusion that his brother shouldn’t be afraid. It doesn’t suit him. And if he weren’t so incredibly tired, he would tell Scott so.

“You’ll – you’re going to be fine. Don’t worry – Sam is coming. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. It’s okay, it’s okay…”

Helpless. His brother sounds helpless, his words streaming out in a desperate mantra.

“…it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

Swirling, dissolving, blurring…

Scott is speaking, still speaking, over and over as if saying a thing enough times will make it so. Johnny can hear the hitched breaths, the pleading tone, the half sobs, all being swallowed up by the growing silence.

“…it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

Johnny thinks he might be dying.

“…it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s-“ 

 

~ end ~