a_gentle_boy | Twenty-Second PSI

[The events of the previous few weeks have left their mark upon Lucas. Following mere hours after Netherlands's droning, mere weeks after his extremely painful and scarring encounter with Billy Smith, the boy hadn't been in any state to be of help during the hazmat attack. Normally, he would have jumped at the chance to assist the injured; he would even have sacrificed his own life to do so. But this time . . . he wasn't sure if he could have done so. Death after death after death, and all he could do was pray that the nightmare would end quickly. Privately, he recognized the part of him that had wished for the Russian man to be found.

He remembered his encounter with Sergei as clearly as if it had just happened. The fear upon the man's face, the desperation in his words. Lucas had promised that he would do everything he could to help -- Yet in the end, he had done nothing, had even hoped that the man would be discovered by his hunters. For the boy who made emotional bonds so easily and valued human life so greatly . . . the feeling of guilt was immense.]

[He stands in front of City Hall, now, fists clenched and body trembling slightly with emotion as he stares at the corpse. He had passed by it earlier. Recognized it immediately. Recoiled in horror from the sight.

At his side is a bucket of fresh water and a small pile of rags. He will decide whether or not he dares to release the body from its noose later. For now, he simply applies his healing PSI to close the open wounds, gently wipes away the blood with his cloth, does for Sergei what he had not been able to do while the man was still alive.

Be at peace.]