Amethyst Origins

Author's Note:

Hello again! I do hope this chapter is long enough for you guys. I'm sorry for how short the previous chapters were. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Damn!"

"Oh, sit still," Amethyst ordered.

Her hands steadily stitching the gushing wound on the right side of his chest. She then inserted the needle a bit too quickly and Death Row almost came off the steel table she'd set him on. She glared up at him.

"Don't make me stitch your mouth shut," she warned.

"You can sure as hell try, sweetheart," Death Row replied with a raised eyebrow but didn't move again.

Alana's blue eyes fixed on him. Blood and sweat covered his brow and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. She took the chance to take in the scars that marred his bare torso. Apparently, he'd been shot—and possibly stabbed—more than once. Amethyst had helped him out of his suit top and it was bunched around his trim waist.

Her blue eyes followed down the hard lines of his six pack abs. Her eyes lingered at the dark dust of hair that trailed down from his belly button and disappeared into the waistband of his suit.

Alana unconsciously licked her lips.

The silence between them hung for a few minutes as Alana worked tirelessly to stitch the wound and avoid Death Row's piercing gaze. The only noises outside the warehouse they'd taken shelter in were train horns. Alana took comfort in the fact that the train horns were loud enough to cover up how fast her heart was beating.

Being this close to someone after so long was... dangerous.

"What's your real name?" he asked suddenly.

Alana tore her eyes away from his body guiltily. She knew he'd caught her staring but what really perplexed her was his question. She thought about answering it.

What would happen if she let this complicating man into her world?

Could she let another into her life only to have them ripped away? She knew the moment her name left her lips that the game would change. They would no longer be acquaintances but possibly friends? Her lonely heart rose at the idea before fear crushed it down again.

"I think it's best if we don't tell each other our real names," Alana admitted.

Death Row nodded slowly as if in approval before raising his large hand to grasp hers and shake it. Alana almost squealed in surprise.

"Nice to meet you, doc, I'm Mace," he introduced.

Alana let out a laugh. "That's it?" she asked. "What are you—a GI Joe?"

He shrugged. "Nickname stuck during my first tour," he explained.

Alana continued her work. Her blue eyes flickered up once or twice when he wasn't looking. He really was wonderful to look at. Death Row—Mace—looked like a fallen wounded angel amidst the dilapidated warehouse.

"So you were military," she stated nonchalantly.

"Mace" must have caught onto her attempt to fish for more info.

"Yes, I was," he answered squarely looking at her.

Alana wanted to kick herself. Of course Death Row—Mace—wouldn't reveal too much about his real life. They were both vigilantes. Vigilantes didn't have friends. Vigilantes didn't really have much but their work.

"I guess Mace is better than Death Row. Where did that even come from in the first place?" she asked curiously.

Alana finished the last stitch and quickly cut the string with surgical scissors. She then reached into her medical bag and pulled out antibiotic ointment to help keep the wound clean and gauze to cover it. She worked efficiently and quietly with Mace watching her every movement. In a few minutes she finished and pulled away from Mace to survey her handy work.

"Well, I guess the news thought I was some escaped convict who was on Death Row for first degree murder. It was right around the time I started hunting down Marcello and it seemed like the best name at the time," he replied simply. "They never did find the convict. He was believed to be one of Marcello's men so that explains that," he added.

Mace looked down and ran a muscular hand over the bandage to check if it was secure. He nodded and began reaching for his suit top to pull it back over his naked torso. He struggled with one of the sleeves and Alana had to help him shrug into it but he soon was able to successfully pull himself together once more.

Mace looked at her. "What about you?

Amethyst

seems a bit theatrical," he stated softly, giving her a long look.

Alana felt his gaze and the heat rising in her cheeks.

"You've done this before," Mace stated off topic.

The closer she got the most intense the electrical charge she felt between them. They were like water slowly rising to a boil. Alana knew if she didn't get some distance from him quick she'd happily burn just to stay close to him for as long as possible.

Alana nodded and pulled away from him reluctantly.

"Yes, a lot of times actually," she confessed.

Mace nodded in understanding.

"You're lucky as hell, the bullet could've collapsed your lung, or worse, hit your heart," she said honestly.

Mace looked up at her. "Why would a doctor be running around chasing down bad guys?" he asked softly.

"I'm not a doctor," she replied quickly.

"Well, doc, that's not really answering my question, now it is," Mace stated sternly.

Alana shrugged but didn't meet Mace's calculative eyes.

"Honestly, I'm still trying to figure that out," she replied.

Alana met his eyes finally. She wanted—no—

needed

to know.

"What's your reason?"

Mace didn't answer at first. Instead he scooted off the steel table and walked around Alana. His standoffish behavior caught her off guard. One second he was opening up and it gave her hope, then the next the walls were thrown up and the gates were locked. Yet, that had always been Mace, so many secrets swirling around in those elusive eyes of his.

She wondered vaguely at the familiarity of his eyes. She may have looked into them before but in a different time, a different place. She just couldn't place it. So she simply shrugged it off as a reaction to the tension of the situation she was in.

"You know... Mace," she started hesitantly. "If we are ever going to be friends, we are going to have to learn to trust each other, right?" she offered.

Mace's back was to her and he stood like that for a while.

"I had a family once," he began. "And one day they were taken from me and I just couldn't let it go," Mace confessed.

Alana felt a stab of pain in her chest. So they were cut from the same ruined cloth?

"Someone had to pay for it," he whispered so low that Alana had almost missed it.

Alana didn't say anything. What could she say?

The polite response would be 'I'm sorry' or 'they're in a better place now'.

Her brows furrowed at those empty phrases.

She should understand better than anyone how condolences didn't help anything. They were just another way to dodge the pain. She'd gone through the stages of grieving. The stages of thinking over everything that happened again and again—hoping, praying that one day the pain would fade away to a dull ache. That one day she'd be able to patch the cracks in her broken heart. That she could find the peace that she prayed her family had found.

That the nightmares would ever go away.

Alan felt the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Her throat burned as she tried to fight them back. Alana reached down to pick up her unmarked medic bag so she could get out of there before she embarrassed herself. She pushed past Mace and headed for the door.

She made it a few feet before she stopped and turned back to him. She pulled a fresh bandage from one of the side pockets of her medic bag. She then walked up to him and pushed the bandage at his chest. His muscular hand immediately flew up to grab it.

His muscular hand was warm on her smaller one. It was almost comforting to be touched by another human being.

Her throat felt like sandpaper when she tried to speak.

"Put this fresh bandage on it in a few hours," she spoke quickly. The sobs were quickly catching up to her. She forced them back.

"You've probably bruised your collar bone so take it easy for a few days," she advised. Then she turned and made her way to the exit.

"Wait a second," Mace said softly causing her to stop instantly. "No one's been this kind to me in a really long time," he said almost fumbling his words. It was the first time that he had ever shown her gratitude.

She'd given his a couple hundred milligrams of a painkiller to help with the pain. His dark eyes looked up into hers and she saw something that made the cracks in her heart become more defined. They may have been different in their ways of thinking but their scars were the same. If it weren't for their circumstances she could admit they might have been able to be friends in reality.

Alana sighed.

Wishful thinking

, she thought to herself.

"Thank you," he said finally surprising the hell out of her.

Perhaps not so wishful

, she amended.

Then Alana couldn't help it. She smiled.

"That's what friends are for, right?" Alana replied honestly.

Even vigilantes had to stick together sometimes.

Mace shook his head before his face grew serious. "It's not just that, I know the risks you're taking by taking care of me. What I mean is how do you know that I won't be able to figure out who you are when you're medically trained and carrying around medical supplies? You might as well just tell me who you are right now," Mace affirmed.

Alana stared back at him without fear. Her face was full of resolve. After a few seconds of pondering she responded and she shocked herself and him with her response. After months of hiding in the shadows, afraid that her escapades would bring harm to those that she cared about.

It took her this long to realize she was alone and tired of it.

"That's your decision, Mace. I can't stop you even if I wanted to. I also couldn't have left you to die after you saved me. I know the risks and as crazy as this sounds I trust you to protect my secret just like I've protected yours," she stated confidently.

Mace simply stared at her after her declaration stunned. The silence was killing her so she approached him first. She stopped short about two steps away from him. The sounds of their breathing the only noises in the warehouse making their encounter seem so surreal to her.

"There are no words I can give you to comfort you for your loss. Though I can promise you that we can help each other find justice for both your family... and mine. You need a friend just as much as I do. Just think about it, please?" she asked with an unsure tone.

Mace nodded. Alana lifted herself up and placed a soft kiss on his right cheek just underneath his black mask. He absorbed the comfort like a drug but made no move to reciprocate. He simply basked in the kind gesture. Alana appreciated that because she didn't know if she could've resisted this time.

"Take care of yourself, Mace," she whispered to him before she turned away from him left in cover of night.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the same dream every night. Alana was stocking up the ambulance when the call came in. Her medic in charge, Jensen, took the call. It had been a few minutes before their shift was over so they took the call.

"Copy, this is ambulance 43 responding, headed to location, Jensen out," Jensen said efficiently before starting the engine and pulling out of St. Anthony's Hospital.

Less than fifteen minutes later they pulled up to a familiar house in the suburban part of town. Alana got out of the ambulance rushed to the police officer on site to access the situation. She recognized him immediately. He worked in the same precinct as her brother, they'd graduated police academy together.

"Gunnar, what's the situation?" she asked robotically.

The officer's eyes met hers and she saw pity.

"Hastings, you don't need to be here," he replied gently. He looked over to Jensen and waved him over. The men conversed for what seemed like an eternity before Jensen's eyes turned to her and she saw the same damned pity in their depths.

She hadn't seen that pity since the day her parents had been killed.

Suddenly, bile rose up in her throat and she felt the walls closing in as she took in everything around her.

She vaguely remembered Jensen yelling at the officer about his unit being inconsiderate and not warning the broadcasters about what had happened.

Alana looked to the three stretchers outside the house being moved into the coroner's vehicles. Two had small lumps in them and one looked to have an adult's body inside of it. She rushed over to the adult's corpse and flung back the white sheet.

She screamed.

Her sister-in-law's dead pale eyes stared back at her. Jensen rushed over and pulled her away from the body as she continued to scream. He pulled her past the on looking officers and other paramedics. He glared at them as he covered her protectively.

"Where's my brother, Jensen?" she demanded. "He needs to know what happened here!"

Jensen shook his head.

"He's in inside, Hastings."

Her heart cracked and the world spun into utter darkness.

Alana rocketed up from her bed panting and soaked in sweat. Tears streamed down her face and she felt the sobs begin to take over. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked to calm herself. The dream was so vivid she could still smell and taste the blood.

Alana flew to her bathroom, not bothering to flick the light on, and vomited violently into her toilet. After it subsided she curled into a ball on the bathroom floor and continued to cry. She felt vulnerable and helpless. It was then she finally admitted it to herself.

She hadn't protected her family and she could barely take care of herself.

How the hell would she be able to take down the man responsible?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Her phone went off a few hours later. She woke still curled up on her bathroom floor. Her sleeping pills and various prescriptions were scattered across the floor. She hadn't taken any of them in months so it would explain the nightmares returning with what felt like a vengeance. She felt the aches all over her body that were sure to become more bruises.

Alana forced herself up and over to her nightstand to pick up her phone. It was a voicemail from an unknown number and fear gripped her. She picked up her phone and listened to the voicemail. A familiar voice greeted her.

"Alana, it's Hayden Quinn, I was calling to see about that dinner date. I'd really love to see you again. Call me...please." He'd added the last word as if by accident. Maybe he'd been unsure of if whether she'd call him back or not. He'd then left a number he could be reached at and said he'd hope to hear from her.

After the confrontation at the club Alana was more than uneasy about getting involved with Hayden now that she knew who he dealt with on a regular basis. Also, she was unsure of how he obtained her number with just knowing her first name. Men like Hayden had power and a notorious hand in the honey pot that was the city. He could probably get his hands on anything... her included. However, if Marcello was really demanding protection money from businesses in the city, Hayden would know and might be able to help her.

She dialed the number Hayden had left her in his voicemail. He didn't pick up but the voicemail message confirmed it was Hayden's cellphone. She left a quick message telling him she'd love to go to dinner and that she'd talk to him later before she chickened out of the whole thing. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been on a date.

Alana resolved to have her friend in the police department take a look at Hayden Quinn just to be safe. The last thing she needed was to be seeing the enemy. She sighed as Mace entered her mind. She couldn't shake him and it was beginning to affect her thinking.

Her phone chimed after she'd hung up, a text. It was Laura checking up on her as usual. She didn't deserve such a good friend. She often worried that her late night activities could hurt the only family she had left.

That more than any thug, drug lord, or even Marcello, scared the hell out of her.

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