Page 23 of Meet Me In The Dark

He wasn’t on the plane anymore, fighting for their lives.He was back in the cabin, watching the Doctor perform surgery on Luke on the table after Kara shot him. Back in his guilt and regret, knowing he’d fucked up and because of it, Luke had suffered.

Just like Luke was suffering now.

“Conor. Conor! Wake the fuck up.” Luke was calling his name, bringing Conor back to the present.

Funny that, from all the trauma Conor had experienced, from all the fucked-up shit he’d seen and done, it was that moment in the kitchen his memory dragged him back to.

Love was destroying him—from the inside, out.

Unfortunately, he’d mentally checked out for too long, and the other guards were on them. Conor punched one guard in his face, but it was futile; they’d lost the upper hand. And Luke was struggling to stay upright, his face going pale from blood loss.

This time, zip ties were brought out and tied tightly around their wrists—too tight to manage to get out of them.

“What the fuck, you’re just going to let him die?” Conor growled, panicked.

“We’ll be landing soon,” one of the soldiers said.

“I’m fine,” Luke said through gritted teeth. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

He sounded angry, confused. Hurt. Like Conor had really let him down when he’d had his brief episode.

Because Conor had let him down.

He’d let all of them down.

The plane began to rumble on its descent. Fuck, they didn’t have enough time, they were caught, and they had no plan. Conor could only hope that wherever they’d been taken had a medical wing and doctor, and that the Johnathans would be willing to remove the bullet and stitch Luke up. As it was, he could only watch the blooddrip from his lover’s shoulder and remind himself, again, and again…

At least Micah and Kara are safe.

At least Micah and Kara are safe.

Strangely, the words no longer made him feel better. Not if he couldn’t keep Luke safe, too. And how did he even know if Micah and Kara were okay? He wasn’t an idiot. As much as he wanted to believe Micah had followed his orders and was on the run or in hiding with Kara, Micah wouldn't give up on them that easily, which meant Micah had probably tried to stash Kara away somewhere safely. Tried, and failed, because there was no way Conor’s brave, reckless, rebellious girl would let Micah lock her up in another cage, whether or not it was for her own safety.

So Conor, who wasn’t religious, didn’t believe in god or any higher power, and rarely prayed, prayed once again to his dead father to keep the people he loved safe.

And he promised himself, then and there, that he’d do anything to save Luke’s life.

No matter what it meant for his own.

“Conor, baby…what’s going on?” Luke asked.

Conor cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re conscious.”

Luke laughed hoarsely. “This isn’t my first shoulder wound, remember? I’m practically a pro by now. What the hell happened back there?”

“Had a flashback. To the last time you got shot. Lost track of reality for a second.”

“Fuck,” Luke muttered. “Great timing.”

Conor shrugged, unable to deny it.

“We should’ve hijacked the damn helicopter,” Luke repeated.

“Yup,” Conor said, and the humor in Luke’s voice momentarily buoyed him.

“Boss, I need you with me, so we can get our asses out of here,” Luke told him. “You with me?”

Conor nodded. “I’m with you.”

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