Piece by Piece

61. Sacrifice

Davyn felt the heaviness of the body in his arms, the heat of the blood pooling in his lap, but his mind failed to process what it meant.

"Walt!"

There was blood everywhere. Why wasn't he moving? Davyn had taken the burnt of the trap as well and even if he was bleeding and it hurt like hell, he was still conscious, functioning.

"Davyn..."

What the hell was going on? Annoyed out of his mind and fighting the panic threatening to smother him, he slapped Walt across the face. "What the hell, Walt? Get up!"

"Davyn, let him go. He's gone."

"Bullshit he's gone! I'm not gone."

"Davyn." Rachel knelt next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. It was trembling, as was her chin. "There's nothing we can do."

"But I--"

"You're four inches taller than him," Simon said, his teeth clattering. "What got you in the shoulder got him in the neck."

The words fell like a hammer, and yet Davyn couldn't let the body go. It was heavy, but it was still warm. Walt couldn't be dead.

"You need to come to us, away from the trap."

His ears buzzed, so he could barely register the words. Alan made sense. He did need to get to safety and take Walt with him. Walt who was bleeding all over him and refused to stop playing dead and get up already. He'd seen death before. Too much. Why was this different? Why were all his muscles clenching so painfully that he was a second away from screaming?

"Here, let me help." Phillip stepped towards them, his voice low and soft.

"Stop! Stop coming to me! Do you all want to get killed?" His voice was in hysterics.

He couldn't lose it. Not now. Not when they'd lost one of them. Clenching his jaw tightly, Davyn finally moved, scooting away from the trap, dragging Walt with him. When he finally reached safety, everyone was around him, trying to pry Walt away from him. The fountain of blood had stopped.

"Right in the artery," Rachel mumbled. "He never stood a chance."

"At least he didn't suffer," Simon said.

"Who cares? He's dead!" 

Davyn got to his feet and walked towards the nearest wall, leaning his hands against it. His shoulder burned and throbbed, but he felt like he deserved the pain. It served to distract him from the turmoil inside his chest.

The others fortunately left him along, whispering among themselves. There was a sob at some point, some sniffing and a shuddered intake of breath, but apart from that, they seemed to have it together. Good. No need for crying when they still had so much to do.

So much to do... So much to do... Who cared when Walt was dead? Why was this different? Davyn's heart beat like a war drum.

"We should..." Harrison said tentatively.

They should... They had a mission. And he had no time for moping. Five people were still alive and in his care. Slowly, like the frost crawling up a windowpane, a sense of coolness enveloped him and drove away the panic. He had no time for this. They had work to do.

"We need to go." He pushed himself off the wall and turned to the others.

They all stared at him, their eyes wide. There were tearstains on Rachel's face and Simon had an arm around her. Harrison was pale and looked ready to throw up again. Alan twitched nervously. Phillip was picture-perfect clam, as always.