“Jackson!”

What now, Mark?

“Jackson!”

Let me sleep… I’m tired.

“Jackson…”

Mark…?

Jackson kept his eyes closed as his head raged with pain.  His body felt numb as if he hadn’t moved in ages.  He listened for Mark’s voice.  Had he fallen asleep at… where were they last again?  The park… right.  He had been sitting on a bench… did he fall asleep?

“Mm..k…” he muttered thickly, his eyes still glued shut, “M….rk…?”

“He’s awake,” someone said softly near his bedside, “Call the nurse.”

“No need,” someone else replied, their voice deeper than the other, “It was a light dosage.  He’ll be fine.  I’ll keep an eye on him.”

There was a soft shuffle of footsteps followed by the soft click of a door in the distance.  Where was he?  Jackson couldn’t remember how he had gotten to wherever he seemed to be.  That voice… was that Jaebum?

Suddenly, like a clap of thunder, memories rushed before his eyes.  Park.  Jaebum.  Mark playing with kids.  Walk back to the car.  A pain in his neck…  He heard the faint sound of his heartbeat monitor quicken to match the sudden racing of his heart.  He felt panic flood through him and dread seep into the pit of his stomach.

“…rk…” he mumbled, struggling to open his eyes.  His limbs were useless at his side as he tried to pry his eyelids open.

“Jackson?” the deep voice said again, “Can you hear me?”

With some success, Jackson managed to open one eye blearily.  His sight was foggy, like his mind, but the flood of desperation in him was as real as he could have ever felt.  He looked at the blurry face of Jaebum and, once again, willed his body to function properly.  “…mmrrr… m… Mark…?” he mumbled.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Jaebum said, looking through a clipboard, “Do you feel nauseous at all?”  He held up a small flashlight and shined it into Jackson’s eyes.  “You were out for a bit longer than I thought,” he muttered, “I wonder if your stress made it a bit stronger than I intended.”

“Mmmark,” Jackson finally managed to say, his throat scratchy and filled with sand, “Where… s’Mark?”  He had managed to open both eyes and wiggle fingers.  He could feel control slowly but steadily flowing back into his arms.

“Your supervisor has already been debriefed so you can just head straight home once you can move,” Jaebum continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything, “Once you fully recover, you can report back to work at your previous post.  Your supervisor-”

“Mark!” Jackson near barked, shifting his arm just enough to prop himself up slightly to stare angrily at Jaebum, “Where… where is he?”  He felt anger course through his veins that seemed to drown out the fuzziness in his head.  He wanted to be up right this moment and head for the harvesting room.  That… was probably where they kept Mark.  If… if they hadn’t already…  “Please,” he begged, his eyes stinging with barely restrained tears, “Hyung… where is he?  Please…”

Jaebum paused and set down the clipboard.  He avoided Jackson’s eyes as he walked to the corner of the room and brought over a small box.  He set the box on the nightstand next to Jackson and said softly, “These are his belongings.”

Jackson stared at Jaebum’s profile in stunned silence.  He felt his chest cave as a heavy weight settled in his stomach.  His ears rang with shrill sound and his vision swam like waves of a visual ocean.  He didn’t want to believe it but his friend’s silence was more than enough to confirm to him the reality that he was currently facing.

Mark was gone.

The next few hours were both a blur and an eternity.  Control returned to his limbs and the pain subsided.  His headache still raged with full force but his head had become clearer.  He had been provided with his clothes and was told to report to the supervisor’s office.

The way there seemed torturous.  The hallway was longer than he remembered, the lights dimmer than his eyes could bear.  The box of Mark’s belongings felt heavier and heavier with each step until Jackson was sure the weight would rip his arms right out of their sockets. 

The meeting with his supervisor was short and to the point.  He remained virtually silent until the end as his supervisor commended him for his role as a Babysitter.  He had done a great job in ensuring the Critical had an enjoyable time.  It was a shame they had to send another to collect them but it most certainly because there was a lack of trust.  No, sir, that was by no means the reason why.  It was simply a gesture to ensure that Jackson was aided in the Critical’s return, that there would be no emotional strain on anyone once time was up.  In fact, Jaebum had volunteered to do the pick-up himself and they were most certainly in agreement that it would be the most humane thing to do for a friend.

Jackson let his supervisor go on and on, the words passing through his ears like the wind.  It wasn’t until he heard the supervisor congratulating him on his return to his normal post did he finally speak up.  His voice was still rather hoarse but it got the job done.

His supervisor was stunned at his resignation.  The man’s words became stuttered and desperate but it was no use.  Jackson was done.  He could no longer work for Facility. 

The ride home was numbing.  He wasn’t allowed to drive with the residual effects of the drug still in place.  He had learned that he had been out for nearly four days instead of just a few hours like they had intended.  The symptoms would go away, they reassured him.  Until then, they told him, lots of water and sleep.

Sleep… the thought would have made him laugh if his face didn’t feel so stiff.  It seemed laughable to think he could have a normal life from now on.  In the span of a short but eternally long week, he had experienced the confusion in questioning his career, the rosy bliss of truly caring for someone, and the agony of losing that same person he had grown to care about so very much.  In just a week, he had come to experience more of life’s wonders that he had ever had.  In that same week, he had come to the conclusion that quitting his stable and promising career at Facility would be the only way to survive the rest of his seemingly long grueling life.

His apartment was exactly as he had left it.  The emptiness of the walls echoed a sense of hollowness he hadn’t quite felt until now.  As he passed by the kitchen, he spotted the microwave and felt sudden piercing pain in his chest.  Images of Mark looking at the microwave in excitement danced before his eyes.  Was that only really a week ago? 

He gripped the box in his hands and walked into his living room.  Setting the box down gently, he stared at it in silence.  Somehow, he had managed to remain numb to the pain up until now.  It wouldn’t be appropriate, he decided, to feel utter crushed and anguished.  After all, he barely knew the Critical.  They had only spent a mere week together.  How attached can you become with someone after only a week?  He was sad, yes, but he shouldn’t feel broken.  He shouldn’t feel as if he was suddenly so alone in this world.  Most of all, he shouldn’t feel lost.

And yet… here he was staring at a box full of Mark’s belongings wondering if he could gather enough courage to open it.  What was in there anyway?  The necklace that represented Mark’s inquisitive nature?  The stuffed chick that represented Mark’s innocence?  Or maybe the postcard that represented all of the unfulfilled wishes. 

Jackson took a shaky breath and lifted the lid of the box.  It was everything he thought it would be.  Anguish jumped out at him and bit him squarely in the chest.  Loneliness seeped into his bones and seemed to weigh him down on the couch.  The weight of it all broke him and a rush of hot tears spilled from his eyes.

He picked up the stuffed chick and brushed his fingers against the softness.  Letting the shackles loose, he pushed his face into the fluff and cried his heart out.

He would get fired for this if anyone ever found out.  Now that he thought about it, getting fired was probably the least of his problems.  Confinement, torture, death… probably a little bit worse than getting fired.

It was too late now though.  What was done was done.  No turning back now.

He made his way through the tiny hole in the wall and stopped just outside a nearly broken door.  Rapping his knuckles smartly, he pushed through the door and stepped inside.  The room was dim save for a single lamp on a shoddy table.  Next to the lamp laid a brown envelope. 

Sighing, he walked forward and grabbed the brown envelope.  Opening up to check the contents, he nodded in approval before dropping a wad of crumpled cash on the table.  Without seeing a single soul, he stepped back out into the dimly lit walkway and made his way back out into the cloudy sky.  He slotted the envelope in his coat pocket before hailing a taxi.

The ride to the airport was short.  Traffic had thinned out to a reasonable level at this time of night.  Stepping out, he weaved his way through the airport until he spotted an elderly woman near the corner of customs.  She saw him and a small smile crossed her wrinkled lips.  She waved to him with one hand, the other firmly placed on the handle of a wheelchair.  In the wheelchair sat a young man with a baseball cap covering most of his face. 

“Thank you for meeting me here,” he said as he walked up to her.

“No…” she said softly, placing her hand on the young man’s shoulder with warmth, “Thank you… I can’t ever thank you enough.”

He smiled and reached into his pocket for the brown envelope.  “Everything you need is in here.  I’ve gone through the documents myself,” he said quietly, “You’ll have no problems passing through security.”  When she nodded and wiped a tear from her face, he looked down at the young man and knelt to match their height.  “You alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, “The surgery went well so recovery should be no problem.  You’ll be in pain a bit but you’ll be up on your feet in no time.  Once you’re fully recovered, there’ll be no more pain.  You’ll be perfectly healthy, you understand?”

“Yes,” the young man responded, “What about…?”  The young man looked up, his eyes filled with worry.  His usual heart shaped lips frowned as he nibbled on them nervously.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Jaebum said softly, squeezing the young man’s knee, “You just think about your life from now on.  Remember what I said to you?  Back at the lab?”

The young man nodded, looking at the elderly woman to his left.  “A new life…” he murmured, his eyes regaining some of its previous sparkle.

“That’s right,” Jaebum said, “And your new name?”

The young man looked at him and replied softly, “My name… is Yien.  Tuan… Yien.”

His head was killing him.

Jackson reached for a tissue and blew his nose.  He rubbed the stuff chick where his tears had drenched two wet spots.  Leaning back and closing his eyes, he let the hiccups subside.  He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this.  Had he ever?  He wasn’t so sure.

Rubbing his temples, he sat up again and stared at the box.  He had lost it with the stuffed chick.  Would he even survive the rest of the items?  The box was big to accommodate the stuffed toy but it was nearly empty.  In one corner of the box, a small necklace sat crumpled. 

Gingerly, Jackson lifted it from the box and rested it on his hand.  He felt a familiar slap of emotion but swallowed it quickly before he lost it again.  Setting it down gently, he reached for the postcard with trembling hands.  The box now sat empty. 

Jackson stared at the card as his eyes blurred again with tears.  How he wished he could go back to that day.  He would take Mark by the wrist and the two of them would just drive.  Drive to a place as far away from Facility as their car could take them.  A small sob escaped his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut.  A tear dropped itself on the card and quickly soaked through.

Letting out another sob, Jackson quickly wiped at it but it was too late.  He flipped over the back of the card; the teardrop had already soaked right through.  He wanted to slap himself at the mistake.  He had ruined Mark’s precious card.  He touched the wet spot as more tears slipped passed his eyes. The tear had smeared through the pen written on the back, making the words blotchy.  What had he done?

He paused briefly as he ran his fingers over the written words.  When… did Mark write something on the back of the card? 

Jackson wiped his eyes and looked at the words.  It looked like… an address?  That’s strange… why would Mark write an address?  It didn’t make any sense.  When did Mark…?

Like a clap of thunder, Jackson shot to his feet, his eyes wide and his heart racing.  It was too much of a coincidence.  None of it had made sense.  Why would Jaebum volunteer to pick them up?  After everything Jackson had told him?  But now… now it all made sense. 

Jaebum wouldn’t volunteer for a job he didn’t want and no one would want to do to their friend what he had done to Jackson.  But he had volunteered… and for what?  The story of Mark’s original wasn’t a passing of conversation.  No… it was intentionally told.  And the four days of unconsciousness that Jackson experienced?  There was no way Jaebum would make a mistake like that.  He was a surgeon that harvested from Criticals every single day.  To make a mistake in dosage… that was near impossible.

It all made sense.

Jackson’s hand trembled as he brushed his finger over the address again.  The words were written in ink on the address line and clear as day.  The words were English but most of all, the city was what gave it away.

Below the house and street number were the words, written in subtle cursive:

Los Angeles.

THE END

Author's Notes:

It's over!  THANK YOU to all the readers that have stuck this out with me for this long.  I can't thank you enough for your patience with this story.  You guys are the best!  I do hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.  Please check out some of my other works.  Hope to see you again soon!