FicWad

Andy leaned back against the wall and merely watched. What else could he do? He couldn't help, he couldn't change anything, he couldn't even think of anything constructive to say. Opposite him, in the bed, desperately pale and hooked up to a plethora of machines, lay Andrea. At her side, clutching her hand as if her very life depended upon it, sat Joe. He was almost as pale as his beloved Andrea and just as silent.

“Joe…” Andy began quietly, almost reluctant to disturb the grief-stricken young man.

By way of reply, Joe briefly turned his head slightly. It wasn't enough to look at Andy, barely more than a twitch, but it was the most he was prepared to offer at this stage.

“Maybe we could get Pete to…” he trailed off, unwilling to actually say the words.

“No,” Joe whispered. “I… I appreciate what you're thinking… but no.”

“But… Joe… she won't…”

“I know what the doctor said. I know, okay? I know!” Joe tried hard to keep the volume of his voice low, but he wanted to scream, he wanted to hit something, he wanted to kill William Beckett.

“I'm just trying to help, Joe,” Andy finally replied, quietly.

“Help? Help!”

Joe turned to face his friend and as he did Andy saw how distraught he truly was. His pale complexion only seemed to highlight the bloodshot swollen eyes that screamed out for rest and comfort, but would get neither that night.

“Andy…” Joe paused as his throat seized at the words. “She's dying. There's nothing I can do, nothing anyone can do but wait. I won't have Pete turn her. I won't. It's different for us, we've been trained, like Patrick said. He didn't turn out evil because of it. Andrea… she's… she… I can't bear it, Andy! I can't deal with this!” Joe sagged in the chair, sobbing helplessly as he thought about what was going to happen.

Racing over in lass than a second, Andy pulled his friend into a comforting hug, wishing desperately for the right words to try to console his friend. Deep down, he knew there were no words, no actions. Andrea was beyond help; it was just a matter of time now. With each passing second her vital signs diminished and she was taken one more step closer to death. Still with one hand holding Andrea's, Joe accepted the hug and pulled Andy closer, gripping the back of his shirt as if he would never let go.

“I wish there was something I…”

Andy didn't get any further before one of the machines emitted a high-pitched wail. Both men looked up to see Andrea's heart monitor flatlining.

“Wh…what? No!” Joe cried, looking up through tear-filled misty eyes.

Almost pushing Andy away in his haste to rise from the chair, Joe headed for the door only to be yanked back and out of the way by Andy as a team of doctors and nurses crashed through the door. Holding Joe back was harder than Andy expected. He knew, of course that the medical staff needed the room, but it broke his heart to be so far from Andrea at this crucial time.

“Could you wait outside, please, sir?” one of the nursing staff urged him, trying to give Joe a gentle push in the direction of the door.

“I'm not going anywhere!” Joe yelled.

“Joe… we…” Andy began.

“I'm not going anywhere!” Joe repeated at once distressed and angry.

Still held back by Andy, Joe watched intently as the doctors worked feverishly to save Andrea's now deathly pale, almost grey body. The lead doctor sighed heavily as he stood back and shook his head.

“Call it,” he asked quietly.

As another doctor began to state date and time of death, Joe almost sagged in Andy's grip.

“N…no! Don't stop! There must be something you can do! There… there must be!”

“I'm sorry,” the lead doctor shook his head slowly.

“No,” Joe stared at the floor, without really seeing anything. “No.”

Andy tried to turn him, to pull him into a hug, to try to comfort him in any way. At first, he resisted, more out of simple confusion than denial. Finally Andy turned Joe to face him and the expression on his friend's face broke his heart. He hadn't known her for very long, but the pair had shared more feelings for each other than many couples share in a lifetime. Perhaps, Andy mused, on some level their relationship was always meant to be brief. Maybe that was why it had been so intense? But none of that really mattered and none of it would help Joe. Steering his friend from the room, Andy's bitter hatred for Beckett welled once more. He would pay dearly for hurting his friend so badly.

*

“Pete, it's okay, they're not here,” Patrick called out.

“I know,” Pete replied miserably. “I'd smell their blood if they were.”

“Yeah… yeah, I guess so,” Patrick replied solemnly.

Pete trudged miserably into the warehouse, refusing to make eye-contact with Patrick even when they were in the same room.

“Pete?” Patrick began with uncertainty over how Pete was going to react to the questions he needed to ask. Deciding it was better to go with what his friend had once been familiar with, Patrick placed a hand on Pete's left arm, steering him gently towards the rear of the warehouse. “Come to my office,” he added kindly.

“I'm not going to eat anyone,” Pete grumbled. “Well, not Joe and Andy… or Andrea, if she's still alive.”

“What do you mean? If she's still alive,” Patrick frowned deeply at the words spoken so casually.

“Joe called her,” Pete shrugged. “While he was on the phone, Brendon attacked her. They went to find her.”

“What!” Patrick couldn't believe what he was hearing; had Pete really become so insensitive? “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Odd that,” Pete mused; ignoring Patrick's outburst. “You and her being in the same building.”

“You're telling me that you got me out of that vault and all the time Joe and Andy were upstairs trying to save Andrea?”

“Ugh!” Pete rolled his eyes in irritation. “I didn't know where they were by then, we got split up.”

“Split up… how?” Patrick asked trying to keep his voice calm.

“Vampires,” he shrugged indifferently. “I had to deal with them. Then I thought that if I ate them, that it might keep the hunger off for a while, you know, second-hand human blood.”

“And did it?” Patrick asked, still aghast at Pete's uncharacteristic lack of concern.

“You know it didn't, I told you before,” he glowered, acting as if Patrick had deliberately baited him. “After that, I went to get you.”

“So, you were on your way, but you stopped off to eat first?”

“I know how that sounds,” Pete sighed deeply before turning away.

“I really don't think you do,” Patrick corrected.

“You know what, Patrick? I don't care! I really don't care how it sounds. Andy and Joe are more than capable of handling their own interests and I've got a lot to deal with myself here and nobody else… not even you… is going to give a damn about it! So I have to. Me! Just me, taking care of myself because no one else is going to do it for me!”

“I'm worried about you, Pete.”

Patrick frowned, deeply concerned by the change in Pete's character. Yes, since his turning, he had always been surly and distant, but this was different. Pete wasn't just angry any more… he was… Patrick didn't want to even think the words.

“Pete…” Patrick began again, somewhat tentatively as he opened a draw behind him.

“Save it!” Pete growled. “You'll just have to trust me.”

“Yeah,” Patrick sighed as he withdrew a small object from the draw.

“But I see you can't,” Pete added in a clipped angry tone as he appeared suddenly behind Patrick, gripping his wrist so tightly as to force him to drop the tranquiliser pistol he held in his hand.

“Pete!” Patrick gasped as the pain in his wrist coursed up his arm.

“I'm disappointed, Trick, I really am,” Pete added as he twisted Patrick's arm forcefully up his back and holding his neck with his other hand, pressed him against the wall. “You don't trust me.”

“No, I don't,” Patrick grimaced, “but then, you're not exactly giving me a reason to, are you!”

“I don't need to give you a reason! I don't need to give you anything! I got you out of that vault, didn't I? Why is that not enough for you?”

Patrick relaxed in Pete's grip, no longer struggling to get free.

“You're right,” Patrick nodded. “You're right, but Pete, you need help. You asked me to help you, but it's you that doesn't trust me!”

“Okay,” Pete frowned, stepping back and releasing his hold on Patrick. “Help me, but I'm not going back into that cage!”

Having turned back to face his friend, Patrick paused and considered his words.

“If the time ever comes to put you back in there, then we have a real problem,” he admitted quietly. “Let's get to work.”