The Unbreakable Code (a YJ fanfic)

Chapter Twelve: Dad

"I loved him when I left him."
Camilla Cabello, Havana

WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT, I rushed out of the hotel room. My heart was thumping, trying to think clearly, as I rushed through the lobby and out the double doors.

Where did they take him?

Using what I already knew about Carter, I began to think through all possible locations.
Then it hit me. The bridge. The place where Dad and Carter had first met; it would be the perfect site for revenge.

I sprinted off, not caring about my aching legs. I wasn't going to let my father die.
As I arrived, I noticed the sky was darkening above, with the intention of rain. Ignoring it, and focusing on several struggling figures at the other end, I picked up my pace.

"Hey!" I yelled, getting their attention. "Get your dirty hands off my bloody dad!"

I pulled out my gun, and fired. The first two missed, but I got three people holding Dad when I concentrated. The other man quickly abandoned his position, to fight me fist to fist, whilst Carter cursed under his breath, before tackling Dad.

Uppercut, punch, roundhouse kick. It was all a blur, I was too focused on trying to get to Dad, who was floundering against Carter. My distraction made my fighting sloppy, and I began to lose. Dad managed to throw another other guy off his back, before Carter got him in a triangle lock, and was holding him tightly. No sign of escape there.

I was just kicking another guy back, before a stick came ramming into the back of my head. I fell to the floor, then coughed slightly, blood faint in my mouth. Then I was pulled up roughly, and I grunted as a guy pulled my arms behind my back, and held me there, unable to move.  

"I'll shoot him, Brookston."

"You wouldn't dare," I spluttered. The other guy's hold on me tightened. Dad winced as Carter pressed his gun into his stomach.

"After everything he's done to you, you still love him. Why? Surely you want him dead."

"I used to," I said quietly.

Carter snorted. "Well, unlike your scum family, I always keep my word."

There was the unmistakable bang of the shotgun. Dad looked down at himself, and looked somehow surprised to see blood leaking through his jacket.

I couldn't even speak.

Carter let him go, and Dad fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. The world slipped, as the first drops of rain came to Earth. The guy who was holding me let me go, and I couldn't muster the energy to stand. I slid to my knees. Carter simply turned around and started to walk away, following the other guy, back down the bridge. But then he stopped and turned back.

"That's the problem with you Brookstons. It's a family thing." He mused, eyeing us with disgust. "You never trust anyone; and that's what leads to your downfall."

Then he turned and disappeared into the ever growing grey. I was still for a second, before crawling over to my Dad. "Hold on Dad," I panted, "I'll get you back… It'll be ok…"

"Em, this is the end. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was never the father I should have been. I'm sorry I made you into what you are…"

I continuously shook my head, whilst he spoke. "Dad… I'm going to save you…"

"I deserve to die Emilia. After all I've done, it's a fitting end to my life. Killed with the very gun I made." He turned his head to me, blood leaking from his mouth, as the rain harshened. "I'm proud of you, I really am. Being the Brookston that no one else was. I'm proud you followed your own path, I'm proud you save millions of lives everyday."

No. Oh no, please god no, this can't be happening.

He coughed, and I felt tears come to my eyes.
"Promise me two things Emilia, only two. Promise me that you will always will be the hero that I never was. And that you will always remember that you are from Ukraine."
I nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder.

This is too much like Star Wars. This is too much.

"Say it," he mumbled.

"I promise that I will always be a hero," I sniffed, "and that I'm a Ukrainian and I'm damn proud of it."

"That's my girl," Dad coughed.
His last breath left him.

"Dad?" I whispered, not entirely ready to accept that he was gone.

I tried to withdraw my shaking hand from his cold shoulder. Then, my resolve went to hell; I laid my head on my Father's forever still chest and wept.

I cried angrily, about the injustice, yet somehow the justified killing.
I cried guiltily, for not being able to save him.
And I cried sadly, not just for his death, but why now I had loved him, only for him to be taken from me. Again.

The rain intensified.
And the puddles swirled off through the drains, just like how Dad's presence had been wiped off the world.

I guess not all stories have happy endings.