The Watchmen Files // File One // Chapter Eleven // What Have I Done?

Hey guys (erm, girls)!

   And again, the week has passed on, and it is Wednesday.

   So that means you get to find out where in blazes Mason ran off to and what is he gonna do now? It was very interesting, writing this part, I mean. Emotional, etc. Tell me how that goes, if you would...

   So (I don't know if I told you this already) but we got a new computer. It's a touch screen, but you can use the mouse too, if you want to. I feel like Fitz Simmons, swiping at the screen like this. I'm having a blast :) And getting fingerprints all over it at the same time... you have to go against all of your childhood upbringing to touch a computer screen, though.

   We just watched Frozen, and I noted how Elsa's powers (and her inability to control them) sort of reminded me of Mason, in a way. Oh, and did anyone notice that the names Hans and Sven are in my book as well as the movie? Kind of creepy, no? Willow and I were reading about the (at that time) upcoming movie and she had the tablet, so I couldn't see what it said. Then she gasped, and burst out laughing. She was too busy laughing hysterically to tell me what it said, and I finally got it for myself. I must admit, Mom and Dad were quite perplexed at the two of us cracking up like that :)

   Ah, fun times, fun times.

   But anyway, I won't bore you any longer. Here is chapter eleven of the Watchmen Files. I think it's a bit longer than my average chapters, so hang tight :)

The Watchmen Files

File One

Chapter Eleven

What Have I Done?

   The dark gray clouds looming over T. Facility 24 rumbled as the medic team raced inside the building as the main offender fled the premises. The clouds began to drop their heavy weight slowly at first, then it became a downpour of cold, beating rain, falling hard on the escapee, Mason Kruger, who had run away from the scene of fright and horror, from what he had done.
   With his cold tears running down his face, falling freely as he raced out of the training room and the compound itself. He could hardly see where he was going, but it didn't matter. He just had to get away. From himself. But he couldn't, no matter how fast he ran.

   With the blood pumping through his veins, a blue pulsing color taking over the red and his sight almost completely blocked by the rain, he raced into a random direction, anywhere but there.

   There was a flash of lightening and a flashback of the scene a few moments ago and the child-like yelp that had followed. Conner.
   "Con..." Mason croaked. He could hardly speak, he was so choked. He had hurt his only real friend. Would he be okay? Could he ever forgive him? No, he couldn't even forgive himself. I'm a monster... I couldn't keep it in. I hurt an innocent man. I could've killed him! "What've I done?"

   What could he do? There was no hope. He was a failure, a monster, just like his dad. He had hurt people he cared about. It was all his fault.
   "Da..." Why did you have to leave? If you'd stayed, this wouldn't be happening. And if God is so good, how could he let this happen? All his heartache as a child, the pain, the fighting. He hated it. He hated himself. "Why God? Why?!" he called out in agony into the rain.
   Running faster than before, he could make out dark shapes around him, whizzing by as the rain continued to pelt him and the tears continued to flow. "I'm sorry, Dad..." I just wanted to make you proud. But why? He was a murderer... No! He wouldn't hurt anyone! But how do I know that? What if Duke was right? What was Graham not telling him? I just... I just wanted to make you proud. He was so angry with himself. Who would help him now? No one would care. He didn't care. The one person he loved would die because of him. Ava. Life would be better for her, for everyone if he wasn't there. This is all my fault- then, without seeing it, he smashed into a tree trunk. Falling backwards, he landed hard on his back. The tears fell as he lay there, crying. He couldn't find a reason to get up. Why, God? Why?!
   We sinned against Him, then killed His Son, Mason recalled what Conner had said to him on his first Sunday with the Watchmen. Would He be a just God if He said, sure, you've done a few good things in your lifetime, so why don't you come on in? Don't fret, the kettle's just boiled. He would be doing what was wrong, and by nature, He cannot do that. Do you understand?

   The tears slowed and the rain too as he sat on the ground, his back to something crusty and hard, knees pulled up to his chest, crying his heart out into his hands. After what felt like hours, Mason caught his breath and managed to stop crying so hard. He had no more tears to give.
   Looking up, he saw that the apple tree above him that partly shielded him from the slowing rain fall, and now he could see where he was.

   The clearing in the grove had been utterly soaked and looked so sad with all of the apple tree's wet branches and drenched leaves drooping. The light was pale and the ground was muddy, but there, in the center of the clearing was a white slab sitting upright, with dirt spattering the bottom half from the pelting rain.

   Still sniffling, he rubbed his red-rimmed eyes to make sure of where he was. He had run pretty far, and now he was alone. Completely and utterly alone, just as he had been at so many other times in his life.

   Crawling on his hands and knees through the muck, Mason came to the gravestone and wiped the mud off of it with the bottom of his shirt. In a shaking voice, he read out loud...
   "F-for when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die, yet perhaps for..." Thinking of Conner, Mason choked up for a moment, then continued. "... for a good man, someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

   Looking up, he breathed deeply. Maybe Conner was right. But would he still talk to him? Or would he hate him? Would he even care?

   "Mason?"

   Mason jumped, frightened by the sudden and silent approach of his Sargent. "Stay away from me!"

   "No, it's okay, Mase..." Graham put his hands up, trying to reassure him of his safety. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you-"

   "B-but I could hurt you!" he croaked.

   "Look at yourself, boy. Look at your hands."

   He lifted his hands to his face, and seeing the blue pulsing color, relaxed slightly.

   "See?" Graham smiled. "You're fine."
   "I'm a monster..." he continued, curling up in a ball and starting to cry again.

   Sargent Graham got down on his knees next to the young man and gently patted his shoulder. "No, you're not. It's just the reaction..."

   "This is all my fault." There was a long moment of silence, then Mason spoke again. "Are you going to put me in a test-tube now?"

   "Actually, I've got a better idea."

   Later...

   Graham sighed heavily as he walked the halls of T. Facility 24 and found his way to the medic rooms, the hospital quarters. "This better work, Gray."

   "Of course it will," Jason smiled, striding confidently beside him. "Someone in that little squad of yours is gonna want to help 'im."

   "You don't know my boys," Graham contradicted firmly. "They wouldn't trust him any farther than they could throw him."

   "Well, it's worth a try," Jason shrugged. "Oh, and your 'boy' nearly traumatized those poor Watchmen-wanna-bees. What am I gonna tell their parents? What're they gonna think about us now?"

   Graham shrugged as he approached the appropriate door. "Not my job, Junior Director of Recruitment Divisions."

   Leaving Jason to pout about the situation, he continued into the whitewashed hospital room. Normally, a curtain would hang down the center of the room, separating two beds with their patience from each other, but now it was pulled aside.

   Laying on the left bed, Duke S. York was laying all by himself and watching Conner, who was sitting on the right bed, explaining for the third time to his squad mates what he had been thinking.

   "Well, I wasn't really thinking much," Conner pondered as the guys leaned in around him. "I just knew he was in trouble, and no one else seemed to be doing anything."

   Stepping forward, Jean-Claude drooped his head in shame. "My apologies, Conner. I was-"

   "We were," Felipe butted in.

   "Yes, we were frightened. I did not know what to do-"

   "No need to explain," Conner smiled softly. "I was scared too, you know."

   "You didn't look scared," Chris noted.

   Duke muttered something from the corner, but no one listened to him. Why should they? It was his own fault. He was a bully, and nobody likes bullies (or should like, rather).

   Conner shrugged humbly. "It didn't matter what I did or did not feel. Someone needed help, I was to help them."

   "McKee?" Graham entered the room and smiled at him. "You're looking good."

   "Oh, Sargent Graham, sir," Conner leaped out of bed and stood at attention. "I didn't see you."

   He shrugged casually back and signaled him to sit back down. "How's the face?"

   "Fine, sir," Conner smiled positively and self-consciously touched his left cheek and eye where a big purple and blue bruise had formed. "It's just a bruise. Nothing serious. I'm just glad Duke wasn't badly hurt," he admitted with a caring glance Duke's way.

   "I'm fine," Duke grumbled grumpily. "It's Kruger that needs help, he's such a-"

   "I don't want to hear any of that, D.S.Y.," Graham interrupted. "I've got something to ask you all."

   They all huddled up (except Duke, who just sort of rolled over so he could see them better) and Graham cleared his throat and began, "Boys, I know you've only known M.W.K. for a short time. And I know many of you could still be angry at him, but I want you- I'm asking you- to give him a second chance.
   I've talked to him, and he's really ashamed of what he has done. He... well, he thinks he's a monster, which, in a way, he sort of is. But in order to get his little girl cousin back he needs to become a Watchman. And every Watchman has a partner, a coworker who will help him though ruff times. I'm asking if any of you would be willing to give him a chance, to work with him one-on-one, together. I'll train you two separately, I cannot risk having him in the middle of everyone else. So, any volunteers?"

   There was a long moment of absolute silence. Then, miraculously, Conner stepped forward. "I'll do it."

   Graham was stunned. "What?"

   "I'll do it. I'll be his partner."

   "But Conner!" Jared sputtered. "You can't! What will he do to you-"

   "He wasn't thinking," Conner reasoned. "He needs serious help."

   "But he beat up on you," Gabe pointed out.

   "I know, but he can't control himself. He needs someone. I think I can help him."

   Chris asked, "Why would you want to help him? I mean, what's in it for you?"

   "Nothing, really. But God gave me a second chance, so I should follow His lead."

   "I don't understand."

   Conner thought for a moment, trying to word it right, the started, "There's a parable in the Bible that talks about a servant who owed the king so many pounds that he could never pay it back, but the king pardoned him from all debts and let him go. Later, he (the servant) sought out another servant that owed him. Now note that it was not nearly as much as he had owed the king. Then, the servant demanded he pay it back that moment, but of course, he couldn't. Then he had him thrown his jail for not paying him back!
   Well, the king heard about it and summoned him. He asked him why he had demanded such a small fee from the other servant when the king had forgiven him so much? Couldn't he extend the same mercy the king had given him to his fellow servant?

   So that's kind of how I look at things. I don't think Mason would have done that if he knew what he was doing. I think I can help him, if you will let me."

   Graham took a moment (mostly to recover from the shock of him actually volunteering) and then nodded. "Of course. Thank you, McKee. He'll be so happy you're willing to help."

   Later, Mason fidgeted nervously as he sat on the trunk in Sargent Graham's quarters. There weren't many things inside, just one bed, a dresser, a table and two chairs, and two trunks (one probably for gear and the other for personal belongings). He had told Mason to wait there as he went to ask the others if any of them would be his partner, but that had been an hour ago.
   Though he doubted anyone would say yes, the waiting was still nerve racking.

   Looking around to find something to get the situation off his mind, he turned to the many pictures and post cards that covered all four walls. Many of the pictures were in different climates, some deserts, tropical, icy, and normal.
   One of the post cards was from Dubai, one from Peru, the Amazon, and some African country, but they all looked old. Except one, which  he examined closer. SOARING WITH THE WARBIRDS, was what it read in large lettering. The picture was actually a drawing of what looked like old air craft, possibly from WWII. Turning it around, he found a label printed on that said, Tillamook Air Museum - Soar With the Warbirds. Huh.
   Putting it back where he found it, he continued looking at the photographs. Most of them had people he recognized, Mr. Russel in particular showed up a lot, and then Mr. Leon, and was that Captain Barton? Well that was surprising. What did the Captain of the Liberator have to do with a rookie trainer? And then there was...

   Mason stopped. Hans Kruger was in many of the photographs. Dad. He had to gulp hard to keep the emotions in. This is all your fault- no, no, no! Don't think that! He mentally instructed himself. Emotion only makes it worse. Conceal, don't feel. Don't feel...

   He had to find some distraction. Spotting a picture frame on the dresser, he moved to the other side of the room and picked it up carefully. There were three people in the photograph: Sargent Graham (though he did look younger) with a pretty bold woman holding his hand. In the middle, a young girl was smiling widely. Mason smiled fondly in return. She reminded him of Ava.

   In another picture he saw just Graham and the little girl, but now she was much older, probably in her early twenties. She was beautiful, her long blond hair falling around her shoulders. Is that his daughter? Then that must have been his wife...? But why isn't she in the second picture-

   "Mason?"

   Whirling around, he quickly set the frame back without his Sargent seeing him. "Yes sir?"

   "Got you a companion," he gestured for the caramel haired young man to come in.

   Mason gaped. Conner McKee smiled that (sometimes rather annoying) award-winning grin in return.

   "C..." What in the world is he doing here? Hadn't he scared him off with the whole punching him in the face business? "C-Conner?"

   "Good afternoon," Conner chirped back. "Um, sir, maybe you could leave us for a moment to get things sorted?"

   Graham hesitated (no doubt remembering how he had got that bruise on his face) but nodded anyway. "Okay, if something, ah, goes wrong, just give a holler."

   Conner smiled politely. "Thank you, but I'm sure that won't be necessary, sir."

   After he exited the room, they stood there for a moment, not saying anything. Then, Mason tried to say something along the lines of an apology, but the large purple bruise covering Conner's left cheek and eye only made him tear up before he burst, "Conner, I'm so, so sorry. I... I didn't mean to hit you, I didn't even see you! I was just so angry and upset at Duke for saying all those awful things about my dad that I couldn't think straight and... and... I'm so sorry," he managed tearfully. "I'm a monster, and I know I don't deserve anything but punishment, but I'm asking you to forgive me, or to at least hate me less. Please."

   Conner's eyes softened as he listened to Mason's plea. Taking a deep breath and mentally shoving his pride down, he put a hand on his broken friend's shoulder. "Of course I forgive you, Mason. I've already forgiven you. And I would never ever hate you either."

   Mason's eyes widened as a pitiful smile of hope came over his face and the tears began to fall. "Really?"

   "Really," he responded gently and embraced him.

   Backing away after a minute, Mason wiped the tears out of his eyes. "I'm sorry."

   "I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are evil," Conner quoted J.R.R. Tolkien softly and with a smile.

   He smiled back, and it felt good. "You seriously want to help me?"
   Conner had a very serious expression on his face, one Mason hadn't seen before. "Of course I'll help you. I'd never turn down a friend in need. You can count on me."
   Mason smirked. "I know. Thanks, Con."

   He nodded back and motioned to the table. "Let's talk, shall we? Get some things sorted."

   "That'd be great."

And there we have it! Another addition to the big story. I hope you enjoyed it! Please tell me what you think. Feedback is very helpful :)

Well, on to announcements...

Willow posted another chapter of Friends and Enemies, chapter sixteen. Another actiony and getaway, I might add. They always seem to be running away from someone... which is great, of course. Fun to read, fun to write.

I do think that is everything to be said at the moment... so long, farewell (to you, and you, and you and you and you!)!

Always Watching,

Darrion