A Call To Arms (A Crown The Empire Fanfiction)

Machines.

Dave's P.O.V.

That's it now.

All of CTE is gone from this building apart from me.

I'm here tending to this kid having an asthma attack, trying to help him gain control of his breathing patterns and to calm him down without an inhaler.

As a member of staff here it is my duty to protect the vulnerable but it is against policy to give a minor any type of medication due to legal reasons.

So here he is, a 15 year old boy, that looks surprisingly similar to Andy, choking and spluttering and gasping for breath while I'm telling him he will be ok.

He is going to die in my arms and there is no way I can stop it.

After another 5 minutes of useless breathing exercises with this child, I hear someone scream: "WHAT THE FUCK! DID BONES JUST DIE!" followed by several ear splitting screams and people running away.

Within a second the entire basement is in complete panic.

Their leader, their saviour, their king, their role model was 'dead' before them.

In the middle of the room.

Everyone scattered to the sides of the room, no one wanting to be close to the body.

I had completely lost control of the situation. Panicked screams echo through the room, people are running away, people are crying, hands over faces and screaming more after they see the 'dead' body.

This is where I faced a pretty much impossible decision.

1: Do I break the pretty much sacred secret of Bones being half human, half machine and tell them that he has just run out of batteries in order to restore peace and order

2: Do I play along, pretend he is dead and be surprised when he 'comes back alive' later

3: Do I completely take control over everyone now that Bones has 'gone' and leave the child having the asthma attack, possibly risking his life.

As I sit there completely lost in thought, I forget that I have this boy's life literally in my hands.

His wheezed coughs and drawn out breaths brought me back to reality.

His breathing had quickened immensely.

His heart rate incredibly high.

He is beginning to lose colour in his face.

The panic of the whole room must have triggered panic in this boy.

Panic + asthma attack = not good

But by this point, the boy was already choking on his own breaths. Seconds away from death.

He gives one last spine chilling gasp for breath before falling silent.

Dead.

In my arms.

I had somehow allowed someone to die in my arms.

How the fuck did that happen.

The price of losing concentration for 5 seconds is someone's precious life.

Somehow that doesn't add up.

I feel especially guilty.

The resemblance to this boy and Andy is astounding.

Making this whole situation 10x more real.

Andy has asthma.

What if this was him.

I'd never forgive myself.

It could've just as easily have been him.

Impending guilt crushes its weight onto my shoulders.

The desperation clear in the young boy's still open eyes and mouth.

I gently close the young boy's eyes with my index and middle fingers on my right hand, close his mouth and lay him down in peaceful rest.