Rejected Mate and Following Fate

I miss him so much it kills me, even if I can't get past what he's done to our bond, and I'm still broken by him. It adds to my
urgency in looking around for some kind of pointer in what to do. I shake myself and I remind myself that the girl I was, she's
dead. Little Alora of the Whyte pack and Elren farm, peacefully living a carefree life. The war seen to my parent's unplanned
leaving, and Juan saw they never came back. She died a long time ago, when her life was turned upside down, and it altered
everything she knew. Her path disintegrated, and all those dreams and hopes, they fluttered away on the breeze.
That unwanted, rejected, feeble little no one, who imprinted on a boy ten years later, who stood in her place .... also, dead! She
who couldn't be allowed to love her fated mate, because of what she was. She never really existed anyway. She was a lie that
was fed to me and made me live under a mask of my own making, because I never knew the truth and this girl, this one right
here. She's the Alora who's been holding her breath and waiting for me to find her.
She's the daughter of a warrior. A daughter of a prophetic Queen, who was slain for her power. She's the heroine of a prophecy,
and she's a god damn white wolf with red eyes, that makes her some kind of hybrid with gifts, a witch thought so powerful that
she bound them until a time when she needed to get them back. A witch who sacrificed her life, and the sanity of her son to
protect her. She's someone to be reckoned with, she needs to find the way to bloom.
That doesn't sound like any kind of weak no one to me, not a reject, or unworthy of an alpha mate, and I need to own that shit.
Everything I've done in my life for the past ten years has been overshadowed by a black cloud of shame and failure and
believing I was never good enough, because they told me so. It's gone. Almost like someone lifted that lid and finally uncaged
my soul. There's nothing over my head weighing me down now, and that little voice that second guessed it all. It's dead too. That
was never my voice, it was theirs, out there in the world around the mountain. I am deaf to their sounds now.
This girl, she has a right to stand up and be counted as someone worthy, and the fates for whatever reason, led me here and I
need to see it through. They knew me before I existed, and I was part of the plan. They know what I'm capable of and they set
on my way to be sure I showed everyone else. If they got me this far then maybe they have a plan, and I should stop fighting and
listen. Close my eyes and let the fates send me some kind of message through the cosmos and the air... because this is not how
it ends.
Th noise of the elevator interrupts my train of thought, a noise so perfectly on cue I blink and open my eyes and my head spins
towards the source. Half expecting to Deacon strolling on in and making my day worse, if that was even possible, but it's the
doctor, and he's pushing a cabinet on wheels with all manner of things sliding off the top as he dashes to Sierras room. Drawn to
the wall to watch him, suspicious of his behavior. Forgetting my pep talk and all my internal boosting of confidence.

He seems different somehow. Wired maybe, a little erratic in his abrupt walking around and hurried movements. He drops a
scattering of implements on the floor, the noise of cascading metal, and hard objects clattering and echoing in this large space as
he abandons the cart outside Sierras door and swipes the panel to open it. He stops before entering, picks them up, and throws
them back on top, scooping anymore he disturbs with his ungraceful and somewhat rushed movements, and then rushes into
her room and starts frantically pressing buttons on machines by her head.
I can't do much else but watch, and as he starts picking up small mobile devices and sitting them on her bed, his face ashen and
serious and fully focused on what he is doing, I realize he's not just checking on her and something's up. His expression says it
all, and there's no hint of gentle jovial eccentric doctor in this moment. He looks frayed and afraid.
Even from here I can see he's sweating, his forehead blushed and shiny and the underarms of his white jacket are beginning to
darken with excessive body heat. He's in a state of panic, and I look around expecting his staff or the guards to come flooding
down, suddenly worried about why. My own nerves hitching as my stomach ties itself in knots, and I end up flat to the window,
palms pressed by the sides of me against the glass, heavily breathing as I watch, anchored to my spot.
Maybe Sierra is crashing... maybe all I was to do was witness her die. God no, please, Colton needs to see her one last time.
She can't die.... he needs her!! I can't stand the thought of him losing her without saying goodbye. I need to know what I'm
supposed to do now.
The doctor unhooks her from the machine, keeping her heartbeat monitored loudly, and I hold my breath, inhaling sharply as the
beep, beep, is stalled so suddenly the air becomes unbearably silent. I don't get why he would take that off, but when he yanks
another box from under the bed and plugs her onto that instead I exhale, slightly confused. That familiar beep, beep, starts up
again, in a subtler tone from a different machine and he moves to the next, and next, replacing everything he can with smaller
mobile devices as my brain pulls together amid my own frantic fear and gives me a shake.
He's not trying to save her, or trying to take her off the machines, he's making her mobile so he can move her.
He stops, rushes off out of sight as he heads into the elevator once more, abandoning everything he's left in chaos and a
moment later, comes crashing back ungracefully, pushing another bed. This time it's on wheels, back to her room. I press my
cheek to the cool smooth wall in front of me, eyes locked on and heart rate hitching as it filters through. He catches me watching
him, notices me with a second snap of his head as though he didn't glance me the first time and makes a weird wave gesture
with his hands that translates to nothing. I don't understand.
"What?" I yell back, unsure what the hell he's doing, and he does it again, waving two fingers in the air which I can only assume
means two minutes. I move back, confusion overtaking but intrigue definitely the dominant feeling. Everything else that had been

coursing through me is replaced with a thousand questions, about why he's moving her. I watch as I've nothing else to do, and
over here it's all I am capable of anyway, as he struggles to get her from one bed to the other and shakes his head in defeat,
getting redder faced, and sweatier as he does. He pulls out a handkerchief from his top pocket, pats his face and puts it back,
while he seems to be taking a moment to size up his plan. He clicks his fingers in mid-air like he just had a eureka moment, and
then abandons her, turning and heading out towards me at speed. A complete look of determination on that furrow browed,
overly serious expression, as he dashes at me.
He crosses the bay so quickly and without hesitation, opens my door and gestures me with flicking hands that I should come with
him. His face is almost beetroot, and soaked, and he looks like he's just run a marathon
"What's going on?" I eye him warily, unsure how to feel about his current behavior and trying to figure out if the doc is drunk and
realize he's breathless as hell and can barely talk.
He gestures again after blowing out an incoherent sound that I assume was meant to be words, to follow. I shrug and do it. I
don't see any reason not to, he's proven himself to be a half decent human who isn't out to hurt me, and a voice at the back of
my mind is telling me this is how I get close to her. As soon as he knows I'm with him he turns on his heel and we head back to
sierra.
"Help me... here to here" he motions wheezily when we get in her room beside her, from her bed to the new one he wheeled
over here. His voice is low and labored and he's struggling to get sound out. Definitely been running about like a maniac before
coming down here, and I can feel his heart rate pulsing rapidly in the air around me. He's composing himself as he works, but it's
obvious he's not in the best physical shape.
I turn my eyes to our sleeping beauty, surprised at this distance how unwell she looks, and a whole lot less ethereal. Sierra up
close, looks like a porcelain doll, so silently still and unresponsive, with flushed, rosy cheeks, on a milky pallor, dark lashes
fanning her face under smooth dark brows, and I can see Colton in her features immediately. I don't argue but take her upper
arms under her armpits as firmly as I can without hurting her and lift her over while he gets her legs.
She's light in weight, surprisingly so, nothing to her, and painfully thin as the blankets pull away and I see her body under her
own thin medical gown. Her skin is almost translucent from lack of sunlight, yet she seems so very warm and alive, and I'm
convinced she's going to open her eyes at any moment. It's unnerving, and I can't stop staring at her face as we place her on the
new bed, brushing her dark hair from her face as he tends to her limbs, and tubes, and settles her neatly.

"What are we doing?" I whisper it back, keeping my voice hushed as it's pretty obvious with the lack of helpers he's not meant to
be doing this. As soon as he fully arranges her on the gurney, he takes a moment to inhale, calm his breathing by pressing a
hand to his chest and points at the door.
"We're taking her and leaving.... I drugged.... Fixed.... phew..." he struggles, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and takes
another exaggerated breath, annoying me to the point of getting frustrated with his lack of vocabulary, and he tries again. I raise
my brows at him and throw a 'and?' look his way. "I drugged dinner; we don't have much time.... few hours at the most." He
wheezes and goes back to picking up tubes and arranging them around her in a hurried fashion.
"You did what?" I gawp at him, this unassuming little feeble doctor that wouldn't stand up to Deacon earlier, and now it registers
how quiet this place is when he's making so much noise with carts and beds and no one's appeared. My face pales as my blood
drains away and my brain catches up with exactly what's happening.
He nods at the bay outside her room and motions to start pulling her bed. Making it clear I'm not dreaming, and we are in fact
staging a bust out, and a heist, in that Sierra is the gold, and we're taking it. I swallow hard, pull myself together, and throw a
glance up at the roof and a silent' Thank you' to the fates. They answered my prayers.
I do as he motions, tugging it backwards out the door with all my might to get it rolling, as he throws machines and such almost
on top with her as we begin to move. He picks up, and dumps more items on the bed as we pass a couple of free-standing
trolleys, pulling the saline drip, and bag feeding her fluids with him, and its trolley at the end while stretching all her tubes almost
taut.
"I doped the soup and pretended to eat in the canteen to watch that they all did, we always eat together. Had to wait on them all
passing out.... to the truck over there." He nods at my shooting point and I pull the bed and aim for it, gaining speed as we go,
and he grabs the medical trolley in passing to tug behind him too, making it awkward for him to keep hold of the bed at all, and I
end up pulling it alone as he deals with that and the other wheeled necessities he's hauling, dropping things as he does so.
If this is an escape, it's a haphazard one, and he's the worst kind of saving hero ever. He's making enough noise to wake the
dead, and I'm not convinced he's not going to keel over and have a heart attack with how unfit he is. He's puffing, and heaving,
and losing more than half his weight in body sweat, and I think he might need to lie down. Humans really are a weak race.