Chapter 53: Morgan
His legs felt like jelly beneath him as he tried to find his footing. With Chloe’s support, and the fact that his legs weren’t actually injured, Miles balanced himself rather quickly.
Chloe glanced to where the others gathered before turning back to him.
"Come on, let’s go."
He nodded, letting go of her hand and following her steps as she moved forward. The girl had slowed her pace to match his sluggish one, so even though he still felt disoriented, Miles had no problem keeping up with her.
As they walked, he opened and closed his hands, relieved by the fact that the fight hadn’t turned him into a cripple.
Unable to suppress his curiosity, he asked.
"How did this even..."
Chloe sent him a side glance as he trailed off, before shaking her head.
"I don’t know. A wave of something, energy I think, shot out of the pylon the moment I activated it. After that, I just suddenly felt better. The mirror fragments read as normal when I inspected it, so I think [Bloody Mary] is gone for now too. A reality stabilization field."
Miles remembered seeing it back then on the pylon’s terminal. That still didn’t explain how it healed them, though. Once again, his gaze lingered on the notifications in the corner of his vision before he looked away, choosing not to check just yet.
He looked at Chloe.
"How long has it been since the pylon activated?"
"About ten minutes."
"Oh."
He fell silent afterwards, not surprised. His dream had been short too.
"Are you really alright, Miles?"
She wasn’t facing him as she said it, but the question itself made him grow uncomfortable. In the end, he replied simply.
"I’m fine, I said it before. There’s no need to worry."
Chloe turned to face him this time, a frown on her face.
"You-"
She wouldn’t get the chance to finish that statement. They had arrived.
Mia and Ryan knelt next to Morgan’s body. It was still wounded, bloodied, and bruised. The man kept coughing blood, mumbling something between coughs.
’Why is he so different?’
Grimm stood nearby, bloodied but unhurt, staring at the face of the man below with mixed emotions. Brandon, on the other hand, sat on a broken crate, seemingly too tired to bother kneeling or standing.
It was only after moving even closer to Morgan that he was able to start parsing the man’s mumbles.
"Take me off the ground... It’s cold."
"Take me off the ground... It’s cold."
"Take me off the ground... it’s cold."
Morgan kept repeating the words over and over again, almost mindlessly. Ryan and Mia glanced at each other hesitantly; they hadn’t moved him yet, likely out of fear they’d make his injuries worse.
But under the man’s continued insistence, they caved.
"Can you help us get a crate here?"
Brandon stood up from his perch, offering the crate he sat on. Ryan’s eyes widened a little at the gesture, but he accepted it regardless.
Both he and Mia grabbed one of Morgan’s shoulders each, before gently lifting him onto the crate, supporting his back against a nearby wall.
The man’s breathing eased a little the moment he sat, then slowly, and weakly, his eyes fluttered open.
They found Miles.
"Ha, you survived too. That’s good."
His voice came out harsh and raw. Like he had to consciously force each of his throat muscles to form it.
Miles could only nod; nothing else felt right.
"Sir-"
Ryan started shakily, only to be interrupted by Morgan sighing.
"Ditch the titles, boy. I told you already, it’s just Morgan now."
The boy slowly nodded before starting again.
"Morgan, should we try to find a way to the nurse’s office? I think there are some medical supplies there, we can-"
"Can a first aid kit fix damaged organs?"
Morgan interrupted him.
The answer was obvious, but it was one Ryan couldn’t bring himself to say. The man took his eyes off the boy, looking blankly at the wall.
"That boy, his punches did something to my innards. It’s all bad now."
He coughed blood.
"This is it, I guess. End of the road for Morgan."
No one else said anything, and the man chuckled before continuing.
"To be honest, I don’t know what to feel now. My life isn’t flashing before my eyes, it’s just... it’s just cold and painful."
He dragged his still-working hand in front of him, shifting his gaze between it and Ryan. Then he coughed.
"You know, laying down there, struggling to keep myself awake while all of you were fighting. I... I had this thought, that I shouldn’t have gone back to save you. Maybe, maybe I wouldn’t be like this then."
Then he shook his head.
"Once that started, the floodgates opened and all the regret came pouring in. I have a family, you know, somewhere in Lincoln. With how things are going here, they might be dead too. Even still, I wanted to see them for myself."
He dropped his hand, his eyes falling back on them.
"Looking at all of you now, I still don’t know if I made the right choice. But if I could go back in time, I’d do it a million times over."
"We-"
Ryan’s voice came out cracked, but the man stopped him with a smile. One that showed all his bloodied teeth.
"Back when I first retired from the force, my wife and kids kept needling me about turning into an old sack of bones. But seeing this, I think they’d be proud. They’d think I’m pretty cool, ri-"
He was interrupted by a wave of bloody coughs, doubling him over and almost sending him off his crate. Ryan and Chloe rushed to support him, just before he fell.
"Are you-"
Morgan stopped him, placing a weak arm on the boy’s shoulder.
"I don’t have much time. There’s a phone in my pocket; the password is my name. You can find my family’s details. Please, help me check on them if you’re passing through Lincoln. They haven’t been picking up my calls."
Ryan’s face tightened, then he nodded, blinking away the tears in his eyes.
"Yes, sir!"
Morgan chose not to comment on him using ’sir’ again. He pushed himself off their support and rested on the wall again.
His eyes panned weakly to Ryan.
"You’re a good kid, Ryan. Take care of them for me."
Then he faced all of them.
"It’s a different world out there now. You might not all like each other, but you’re all you’ve got. Don’t go dying on your own."
The others nodded. Miles, Grimm, and Brandon just watched on somberly.
Morgan raised a shaky hand before tapping his forehead.
"When I die, make it pretty, please. I don’t want to walk again."
The limb dropped like it had lost all the strength in it, and Morgan turned his gaze upwards, onto the glowing emergency lights.
"So many died wordlessly. Not knowing how they died, or what killed them. I can die sitting, on my own terms. I’ve lived a good life."
Tears dripped down his cheeks, washing away trails of blood on his face.
"I... I am happy. I... I... I..."
Morgan slowly fell silent.