Prompt #1 - "Can't stop, won't stop" (July '18) [Archive]

ArtisticVicu

07-05-2019, 04:01 AM

The schoolyard was full of children laughing and screaming. A glance would see nothing more than happy children but a keen eye or someone that had once been part of the outskirts would be able to pick out the kids that were faking it, the ones that didn't have friends, the ones that were ostracized by their own age group.

He hit the pavement hard. The unforgiving surface bit into his arms and hands, his body instinctively reacting by filling his vision with tears and quaking under the onslaught of pain. The small gaggle of kids that had slammed into him - or, more specifically, the gaggle of kids following the brute that had shoved him to the ground for no other reason than a laugh - seemed to swarm behind his aggressor, laughing and cooing words that stung. He blinked back what tears he could but there were too many in his eyes and they escaped without his permission as he glared up at all of them.

"Crybaby! Crybaby!" the gaggle chanted, the aggressor's grin growing broader and broader.

Said aggressor took a few steps forward and leaned forward. "Aw, what's wrong, Newman? Trip over your own shoelaces?" The gale of laughter ebbed with the gaggle. Not a single face held guilt or sympathy. There was no one coming to aid him. "Don't you know how to tie those?" His aggressor straightened, looking back at the gaggle. "Oh, that's right. You never had anyone to show you how."

It felt like his insides were on fire with the desire to hurt but he knew that he couldn't do that again. Tears still streaming down his face, he shoved himself back up to his feet as the gaggle walked away.

He planted his feet as Unna had taught him to and balled his fists. The pain from his hands got worse and he used it as the reminder he needed.

"Hey Beckett!" The gaggle stopped but didn't still. His aggressor was the only one stagnant as their eyes met. He knew he shouldn't push but he was sick and tired of being thrown around like some rag doll.

"At least someone back home loves me!"

Something dark flickered across the other's face and the gaggle became a threatening shadow behind Beckett. It was all he could do to swallow down the bitter taste of regret.

He blinked, sucking in a breath. It hurt as it stuttered in his chest as he watched the gaggle walk away. Fighting through the scratching in his chest, he tried again.

"Hey Beckett!" The gaggle stopped but didn't still. His aggressor was the only one stagnant as their eyes met. He blinked, testing the words before letting them go.

"Unna's making spaghetti," tumbled past his lips. "There's always leftovers so there's plenty for you to have some if you want to come over. Unna also just got me a new basketball hoop. I don't have a new ball like you but I have one we could use."

The gaggle was still swarming behind his aggressor but it had become sedated, unsure.

Beckett stared at him.

He shrugged. His arms throbbed. "If you want to come, Unna picks me up at the back corner of the parking lot."

"I know," Beckett spat but the trill of it sounded off.

He turned and started for the nurse's office.

Someone was standing in his designated pickup spot and he had to force his feet to keep a steady beat against the cement. There, standing in his spot, was Beckett and the other looked strange without the gaggle of kids following behind.

Anxiety bit into his chest as hard as any repercussion.

Beckett jumped when he settled at their side. "Unna's almost here. I can see the car from here."

Beckett's gaze naturally followed his to the line of cars entering the school parking lot for kid pickup. A sedan in decent condition and in a desperate need of a bath broke away from the flow of traffic and started for them. It came to a stop at the curb and he walked over to the trunk as the hood popped. "You can toss your bag in here," he offered as he did just that.

He left Beckett to decide as he opened the back door and clambered in, announcing, "Beckett's coming over, if that's still ok."

His Unna looked to him before glancing to Beckett out the back window as the other kid closed the trunk. "Did they get permission from their parents?"

He shrugged. Beckett started to climb in as he turned to ask. "Did you ask if you could come?"

Beckett froze.

He frowned and blinked. He fought the urge to gasp for breath as a sedan in decent condition and in a desperate need of a bath came to a stop at the curb. He walked over to the trunk as the hood popped, offering, "You can toss your bag in here with mine, if you want."

He dropped his bag into the awaiting compartment and took a step to the side. Beckett only seemed to hesitate for a moment before their bag joined his and he closed the trunk with a resounding thud.

"Unna's gonna want to know if you have permission to come over," he gently warned as he walked to the door. Beckett followed but didn't say anything.

He opened the back door and slid in, scooting over so that Beckett could follow. "Hi, Unna. This is Beckett Parker."

Unna shifted in the driver's seat enough to meet Beckett's gaze. "Hello, Beckett. I'm Angel, Jamie's Unna. How long will you be staying with us?"

Beckett shook their head. "My parents work late so I just have to be home by dark."

"Will you need a ride?"

Beckett shook their head again.

Unna's sharp gaze turned on him and if his chest hadn't already been hurting, it would have constricted in fear. "We will talk when we get home."

He should have known better than to think his Unna wouldn't have noticed.

The drive was quiet, barring the low music from the radio. The sun was warm through the back window but he barely noticed. It was all he could do to keep his breathing as normal as he could get away with as his heart seemed to be attempting an escape through his rib cage.

"Hey, Newman," Beckett whispered. "You ok?"

Apparently not normal enough. He caught Unna glancing his way through the rear view mirror. "Yeah, why?" he tried.

"Your breathing kind of funny."

The car stilled as the red light shone through the front window over the car ahead of them. A smile big and fake plastered itself on his face. "I'm fine. Was seeing how long I could hold my breath to pass the time."

Beckett didn't believe him.

He didn't get the chance to try and convince them.

Someone's horn suddenly blared to life and he brought his head around in time to see a car speed into the intersection from the opposite direction.

There was no time for the big rig driver to hit the breaks.

He sucked in a breath as the car was sent into the one in front of them and the semi came careening towards them.

His chest was on fire. He curled in on himself as deep, bone wrenching coughs tore at the air he couldn't get enough of.

A sedan in decent condition and in a desperate need of a bath came to a stop at the curb.

"James," curled around him as a soft touch passed through his hair. It probably wasn't the first time it had done that as it did it again. "Breathe."

He sucked in a rattling breath. It came out as a cough, too.

"Again."

He sucked in another breath. This time his lungs filled with it without rejecting it and he let the air out in a rush only to suck more in greedily.

"That's it." A sob choked him. "That's my good boy."

"Unna," he wailed. "Unna, I couldn't-I didn’t- I didn't mean to. Unna, I'm sorry."

Unna's arms tightened around him. "It's ok. You did the right thing. It'll be alright."

"Miss…ah, Miss Angel?" It was Beckett's voice. "What just happened?"

He felt his Unna shift around him but the arms holding him tight didn't let go. "Once we're in the car. He's done it too many times too close together for it to be safe. Don't worry, I won't take you home till you have what answers we can share."

There was silence for long enough that he thought Beckett had followed Unna's soft spoken command but then Beckett's voice drifted to him again. "Will he be ok?"

He felt the faint chuckle that rolled through Unna's chest. "As long as he doesn't do it again, yes. Now," Unna grunted as he was pulled off the ground; he tried to hide the spasm of pain shooting through his chest from the motion, "if you would be so kind as to grab his bag for me, I'll get him in the car and us on our way."

Unna placed him carefully in his seat but he still hissed in pain as he was placed and buckled in.

Unna's hand was steady in his hair. "Just a bit longer, James."

He nodded against the touch.

The car shifted into drive with ease. It was several minutes later when he realized they were going the same route. Panic flared in his chest even as his mind screamed at him that Unna knew.

"Unna," he choked out as Beckett exclaimed to his utter surprise, "We can't go this way!"

He looked over, eyes wide despite how his chest hurt to find Beckett gripping at both front seats with white knuckles.

Unna looked to the other child as the car came to a stop at red light. A different one from the one they had been caught at prior, one far sooner than that one. "It'll be ok, Beckett. James has delayed us enough. We won't get caught in it again."

Beckett stared at his Unna with terror edged into their face. Beckett swallowed thickly, glancing at him briefly before asking, "How….why do I…"

Whatever Beckett had wanted to ask died on their tongue. He wondered if it was for a loss of words or too many questions to ask at once.

The light turned green and Beckett sat back as the car started forward.

"Beckett," Unna spoke, voice even but thick with warning, "what I am about to share with you must not leave this car. If you speak to anyone that I have not told you knows, there will be consequences that I cannot protect you from." Unna met Beckett's gaze through the rear view mirror. "Do you understand?"

Beckett's gaze flickered to him but he had nothing to offer.

It had been a long time since his chest had hurt like this.

Why didn't he learn?

"Yes," Beckett replied, voice quaking.

"Good." The car slowed as the traffic thickened to a stop. "Do you know what happened to us?"

Beckett shifted in the seat. "We went back in time?"

Unna smiled encouragingly. "Similar, but not quite. James rewinds time, or resets it to a point. He's gotten better at controlling when to he resets but sometimes he doesn't have much choice." Unna's gaze flickered to him in the rear view mirror. "Often he keeps it to only a few seconds, maybe a minute. Any longer than that and it puts a strain on his body. Or, more specifically, his heart."

"Why his heart?" Beckett cut in.

"We're not sure," he explained, sinking back into his seat a bit more. The pain was slowly ebbing. That or he was getting used to it. He wasn't overly picky. "They think it has something to do with how the ability is stored in my body or that it could be some natural limiter that keeps me in check."

Beckett's attention went to Unna. "Do you have the same ability?"

The smile that pulled at Unna's lips was endearing and a bit sad. "No. I have a different ability but it isn't very useful when it comes to helping James."

"What is it?"

"Remembering."

Beckett frowned. "I don't understand."

Unna's expression turned thoughtful despite the expectant look in the gaze locked onto Beckett. "Do you remember the reset?"

Beckett opened their mouth but no words were forthcoming. He leaned his head back, expecting that. There were echoes if the ending point of the last reset was severe enough, but the only one that had ever remembered was Unna.

"Can you teach me how?"

He opened his eyes, looking at Beckett's determined face.

"Why?" Unna asked, curious; he parroted, confused.

Beckett looked at him. "Because I want to help."

"Can you see them?"

He pressed a hand over the earpiece to hear better. "Yeah," he confirmed. "Only two and the target, though."

"Anything you can do?"

"Not till you go in, like normal," he drawled, amused.

A huff from the other end but there was a touch of amusement in it. "Fine. Just don't let me get killed in there."

"Yeah, yeah," he assured them, even as those words jabbed at old wounds.

He watched his partner dash in, showboating like none other. One of the extras went down but the other and the target were very good at holding their own.

"Resetting," he warned.

He didn't wait for a confirmation as he blinked, taking in a breath as he reoriented.

"Who do I take out first?"

It eased the slight tension in his chest when their words were nothing like they had been. Every time he reset, he feared he would lose the one person that could remember. "The one on the far side. Move in, move quick. Don't showboat. It does you no good."

"Understood."

He watched and waited. Sure enough, later than before, his partner appeared dropping down on the one extra that had kept up with the initial attack. His partner's attack was solid, knocking the extra out cold.

"Target," he barked. "We'll play Hopscotch with the other."

"Don't kill me."

Heavy words spoken out of true concern despite their full trust in him made his heart hurt. "Just remember and I won't," he retorted, offering with it silently how much he meant that.

His partner went in for the target but again, the target held its own. The still conscious extra did its best to get in the way but he did mini resets, a second here, two there, each enough to give his partner enough time to adjust to what was coming and use it against the extra.

He caught sight of the blade before it buried itself in his partner's side.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

"I'm ok," crackled into his earpiece and he let the breath go.

"Are you sure?" he asked, heart racing.

"You reset. I'm fine." A pause. "Target first?"

He nodded despite them not being able to see. "Target first."

This time when his partner dropped in, the target was out cold first.

The other two were taken out just as quickly.

He leapt from his hiding spot and felt their arms around him before gravity even had a hold on him. Solid ground met the bottom of his feet and they grabbed at his wrist, pressing his palm against their side where they had been stabbed. "See? No stab wound."

The words were echoed in his earpiece but he was used to it. He nodded, smiling weakly. "I'm going to get you killed one of these days."

They barked a laugh. "Only after I drag you down with me. Besides, it'll take a lot more than that to stop me. Can't stop, won't stop, not till you're no longer there to watch my back."

"And you've got mine?"

They huffed a laugh. "Always, Newman," they teased. "Now come on. We've got to bag these guys before reinforcements show up."

He followed after them.

"Wow."

He looked up from the file he was reading, intrigued. "What?"

His partner looked over at him from the wall calendar they were staring at. "Can you believe it's been 16 years now?"

He frowned, putting the file down. "16 years since…" he prompted.

"Since the truck incident all those years ago," they explained. "With your Unna."

He blinked.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it has, hasn't it?" he commented. He was stunned in all honesty. He hadn't kept track of time very well. His ability always did make keeping track of time weird. "And that was, what, only a few years before your ability showed?"

His partner hummed an affirmation. "I still don't know how Anna was so patient with me. I was worse than the rookies."

"Unna's always had a strange sort of patience," he agreed. "Still, I'm glad you agreed to come to my house that day, Beckett." He looked at the other, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "I'm not sure I would have made it this far without you."

Beckett grinned at him, all teeth despite the care in their gaze. "Oh please. You'd have lived till you were 100 even if I had walked away."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. If you say so."

He led the way back into the main area of the hero headquarters they were stationed with. Heroes of all sorts milled about or passed through to complete some task. He gave none of them much heed as he made his way to the front door.

He couldn’t quite grasp why there was a ringing in his ears.

Smoke choked him. That was the first thing he realized when he started to re-orientate himself with the world. When his brain started making sense of what he could see, terror flared through him just as much as his apprehension started to quickly spiral into anxiety.

"Beckett!" he called out, choking on the name. "Beckett!"

There was screaming, shouting, sirens. There was so much going on that he couldn't even piece together what had even happened. But he found Beckett.

It felt like his heart stopped.

"Beckett!" he screamed, rushing to their side. His ability was like needles under his skin but he knew that resetting without knowing wasn't going to help. So, instead, he started figuring out what he could do.

It was easy finding what to move first so that Beckett didn't end up more crushed as he removed rubble from on top of them. It only got harder when the villain appeared.

"It would seem I've found another little hero."

The voice shot ice down his spine and he whipped around, coming face to face with someone he hadn't thought to still be alive.

The villain's grin grew sharp. "And it seems I'm in luck. I've been looking for you, my little Save Point."

"Eros," he spat. "What are you doing here, alive?"

The villain spread his arms wide, the grin looking as if it would split the other's face. "You wound me, Jamie! I came to check on how my little boy was doing, to see how well my little Save Point has grown."

"I'm not your save point," he snarled.

Eros's fingers were digging into his cheeks before he could blink, hand pressed to the underside of his jaw and forcing his head back. "Oh, you have it all wrong, little Jamie-boy. You are my Save Point and you will do as I say if you want the world to survive."

"You won't remember anything I do," he bluffed. He didn't know that. He didn't know this man.

"Oh, but you're wrong," Eros assured him, and suddenly pain flared in his side. "I remember every." The pain intensified. "Little." Again. "Reset." And again. "And now you're going to reset us right back to the day you escaped my grasp the first time."

He gasped, trying to hold onto what was going on as the pain tried to take over. "What do you mean?"

"Had you not reset, I would have ended your precious Unna's life and taken you back into custody. But you just had to see the car speed through that blasted intersection," the pain suddenly tripled to emphasis the words, "and the damn truck heading your way. If I had just been a few minutes faster," another burst of pain, "then it would have worked."

They had just been talking about it, hadn't they? He and Beckett. How was it that they had managed to be talking about that day, of all days, and here he was facing his father who had wanted to use his abilities since he was born. He felt his ability churn under his skin and he wondered just how far back he could throw them, how far back his reset could reach.

Eros was still talking but he wasn't listening any more. Farther and farther he reached as he felt his life slowly drain from his side. Farther and farther he pushed, pushing back to that faithful day.

He was glad he had met Beckett.

He hoped Unna would forgive him in time.

He opened his eyes.

The unforgiving surface bit into his arms and hands, his body instinctively reacting by filling his vision with tears and quaking under the onslaught of pain. The small gaggle of kids that had slammed into him - or, more specifically, the gaggle of kids following the brute that had shoved him to the ground for no other reason than a laugh - seemed to swarm behind his aggressor, laughing and cooing words that had once stung. Numb to it all, he looked up, searching for a specific face from the crowd before him.

"Crybaby! Crybaby!" the gaggle chanted.

His aggressor wasn't grinning.

"I…Jamie?" Beckett spoke out, confusion and disbelief heavy with those two words. The gaggle fell silent and still.

He offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry Beckett. It was the only thing I could think of."

"Jamie, I don't-" They shook their head, taking a step forward. "How? Why?!"

"Eros."

Beckett hissed.

"Beckett." They met his gaze, their worry for him almost palpable. "Will you tell Unna that I'm sorry?"

Whatever color had filled Beckett's face slipped away as that sank it. Tears filled those eyes he had grown so accustom to seeing joyous, mischievous, that it made his heart hurt. "James, don't."

He offered a tight smile. "This way, he can't win."

"Jamie, please!"

"You'll tell Unna for me, won't you?"

They were there, arms wrapped tight around him, and the world jerked in a way that he had long since grown used to. How Beckett had the finite control to get them safely to Unna's side was breathtaking. He was sad he was going to miss out on that.

He looked up, not used to being in an eight-year-old's body after having grown out of it. He found his Unna there, alive and well, mouth covered by a shaking hand and tears streaming down a face he hadn't realized he had forgotten details of despite the photos he had kept.

"Unna," he started.

There was no pain. His threshold had grown to the point that pain only came in small amounts now. This, though, was like something snapped within him.

The last thing he saw was Unna and Beckett crying over him as he was swallowed by darkness.