Chapter Text
Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, Bill Maxwell leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, picturing the hallway he had just ducked out of, barely avoiding several bullets. It was a long hallway, about 10 feet by 6 feet, crossed at the end by another hallway. One door, maybe two.
“I really hate this stuff,” he grumbled as another bullet ricocheted off the wall just above his head. He returned fire using the last of the cartridge, then pulled the empty case out, replacing it with a new one as he heard the gunman retreating.
He brought the gun up and tried to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. This whole scenario had gone out the window the minute they entered this madhouse. First, they got separated in the initial gun battle. And second, he couldn’t figure out where Ralph was. It should have been easy to find him, and that worried Bill, not knowing where Ralph was, even if his best friend and partner had the suit on. Mainly because even with the suit, he had some vulnerabilities.
“This cat-and-mouse game really stinks,” he thought as he quickly looked around the corner. No one was there. “Really stinks, shooting blindly in a direction, especially when he didn’t know who was in that direction.” But it was what he had to do. If he came around a corner and hesitated, he would be killed. But he also knew a shot aimed a little high… He shook the thought away. “Wasn’t going to happen, Maxwell,” he whispered. “Ya gotta stay focused here. The kid can take care of himself.”
Bill tried the communicator again, but only received static. “Damn, something must be messing with the signal.” He pushed the thing back into his pocket before calling out his partner’s name.
When there was no response, he slowly stepped out and made his way down the hallway with his back against the wall, scanning in front and behind him as he moved.
“Ralph,” he whispered harshly as he approached one of the doorways. A bullet from inside the room was his response. “This is getting old real fast,” he grumbled before stepping into the room and firing at the source of the bullet. Instead of hitting a person, though, Bill watched as an image of himself reflected in a mirror shattered into a million pieces. Movement in the hallway quickly registered; the gunman had slipped out the other doorway. Bill quickly turned back to the hall and fired, missing the person as they ducked into the next hallway.
“Damn.”
Nearing the end of the hallway, he could hear the other person just around the corner. He checked his gun before proceeding. “Damn, only one shot. Sloppy, Maxwell. Real sloppy.” He cocked his gun, then, taking a breath, turned the corner, took aim, and fired. The bullet hit his target dead center this time, much to Bill’s horror, as instead of the gunman, it was Ralph at the receiving end.
“No!” Bill rushed over to his friend, catching him before he crumpled completely to the floor. His mind was reeling as he tried to understand why the suit didn’t work. “Stay with me, Ralph,” he said as if the words themselves could stop the blood. Frantically, he tried to stop the bleeding. He didn’t understand. Ralph had the suit on; the bullet should have just bounced off.
“No, don’t do that,” Bill ordered his dying friend as Ralph started to lose consciousness. He could see the pain and confusion in Ralph’s eyes, and it tore at him. Not now, not this way, he told whoever would listen, trying to hold back the wave of emotion that threatened to take over.
“You can rest when this is over, kid. I promise. Just don’t give up… Don’t… giv…” Commotion somewhere in the house stopped him. As he listened, Bill could hear sirens outside. “Ralph, the cavalry is here! We are going to get you out of here… Ralph?!..” The younger man’s unseeing eyes stared back at him. He checked for a pulse. When he found none, he sat back against the wall, and the world around him swirled, forcing him to close his eyes as everything faded to black.
Bill was awake. Despite the darkness that surrounded him, he knew that much. The pounding in his head and sore muscles from sleeping on the couch testified loud and clear that he was awake. “I really need to tell the kid to get a new couch,” he groaned as he rubbed his head, then stopped. Ralph. His mind raced as he sat up quickly, ignoring the pain that came with the sudden movement, the images of Ralph dead still very real. He looked around.
Realizing he was in Ralph’s living room, he let out the breath he was holding. Last night filtered back in, pushing his dream away. He had stayed after watching a late game with Ralph. With the counselor out of town and Ralph’s car at the school, it made no sense for him to go home only to turn around a few hours later to take Ralph to school the next day.
At least it did then. Now, stretching the kinks out of his back, it didn’t seem like a very smart idea. A quick glance at his watch told him it was 5:45. He couldn’t go back to sleep even if he tried; he knew that dream would be waiting for him just as it had the last few weeks. Rubbing a hand over his face, Bill leaned forward on his knees. Each time he knew it was a dream, but it felt so real, the whole thing. Ralph dying, the blood, everything. But it was a dream. Had to be. There was no other explanation.
He looked in the direction of his partner’s room. “It was a dream,” he whispered to himself, not sure who he was trying to convince. It was just a dream. He repeated the mantra he had become used to saying. But he had to be sure. Slowly, he got up from the couch and crossed the living room until he stood just outside Ralph’s door, which was slightly ajar. He strained to hear any movement coming from the room, only relaxing when he heard Ralph’s alarm go off and his friend turning it off, mumbling about a few more minutes and his mom. Quickly, he retreated to the hall bathroom, not wanting Ralph to know he was there.
Once there, Bill turned on the faucet, then watched the water as it faded, and he was again standing in that hallway, Ralph’s eyes staring at him, cold, empty, and lifeless. They seemed to pull at him, pulling him closer, and he let himself be pulled, feeling his body sink to the floor. His only support was the wall. He reached out toward his friend, only to let out a shout, pulling it back when Ralph turned toward him.