Bat and I spend the night in our ship.
When I return to the house, Lalia doesn’t bother trying to ask me inside. I glance in the window and get a peek at Yvonne and Anya on the couch, neither of them talking. Anya is tucked under her sister’s arm, out light a light. They’re both safe in there.
I don’t sleep well. Despite my little walk and thinking through it all, my mind doesn’t stop turning the interaction with Masyn over in my mind. The way the mother stared at me, and how both of them kept as much distance from me as possible when Zane and Lalia had been quick to get as up and close in my personal space as quickly as possible
They’re nothing alike. They don’t need to be, but it hurts more than I’d like anyway.
When I do sleep, I don’t much care for my dreams. Bat sleeps on my chest then tucked under my arm, not even bothering with his cot. I’m grateful for the companionship. I didn’t want to bother him, but he seems happy to keep me company.
Still, I’m up before the sun rises, tucking Bat back under the covers and wandering around the underside of my ship. Mist hangs on the verge of becoming rain. Trees are heavy shapes in the dawn, a few birds calling, barely any signs of life to this place. It seems so slow, so peaceful. A lovely, calm place, if my brain would calm down with it. I try one more to imagine myself a child here, running through the trees, and it’s even more unbelievable than before. I was born to Amerov’s metal and rocky surface, nothing before, nothing softer, will ever be correct.
No one seems up, no lights on in the house.
I get a bit of a terrible idea, but it’s not as if either of them are going to like me less. They didn’t tell me not to come into their house, anyway. The front door is unlocked and quiet as I ease it open. Everything silent save Yvonne and Anya’s breathing on the couch. The fire has long gone out, but the house retains some warmth. I’d noticed pictures along the walls yesterday, but it had been dark, and I’d been too nervous to wander their house looking at their private items. I remember the sibling’s ship having pictures too, and grimace at the remembrance of their loss. Another thing for their parents to hold against me.
It’s still early, but there’s enough dim grey light for my eyes to work on the photos. I skim along those hanging on the opposite wall, trying to pick out familiar faces. Some, I don’t think are anyone I’ve met, but there are definite photos of the siblings in different ages. I almost snort at a lanky teenage Zane and Lalia’s curly hair cut. It’s much tamer now.
It takes longer than expected to find what I’m looking for. But I do spot two separate photos with a child who’s obviously supposed to be me. Both of them are taken in the front yard, with Zane. I can’t tell which kid is which. The idea I’m supposed to be identical to Zane…what an odd concept. I touch one of the photos, but it’s just paper. I don’t feel it well under my improperly-healed fingers.
Carefully, I creep down the hallway where Zane disappeared last night. It’s a short hallway. Off to my right, there’s an open door and a large bed, two people under the covers. I turn away, embarrassed to be looking in on their room. I’m certain they would be pissed if they woke and found a nightmare glancing in at them in the half-dark.
The door at the end of the hallway is closed, a single heat signature on the other side. Sitting up. I tap on the door as softly as I can, and hear a whispered, “Yes?”
Quiet as the dead, I crack the door and peek inside. Zane is sitting up in bed, still half under the covers, staring at me sleepily.
“Did I wake you?” I ask, and he shakes his head, gesturing for me to come in and rubbing his face gingerly.
I shut the door behind me, taking in his room. It’s not large, but there are pictures hung on the walls, a bed opposite the door with a wooden back, a window at the head of it, and a desk near another door that’s probably the bathroom. I’ve been stuck with Zane for weeks, one of the nosiest people I know, and I still feel sheepish snooping around his stuff. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I lean over the desk to get a look at the photos. Most are him and Lalia and me—well, their brother. I don’t recognize any of the locations.
Don’t even recognize myself.
Zane is looking at me expectantly. I shrug. “Sorry, nothing’s sparking any memories.”
He shrugs, but I can see the disappointment. “It’s alright, we’ll figure it out.”
His voice is about as rough as his appearance, but he grabs a glass of water off the nightstand before I can think about getting him one. I look at his disheveled hair and clothes he slept in, and the way the bandages definitely need replacing, and sigh. Poking my way into the bathroom, I search for the medical kit Lalia brought in last night. One of the boxes of supplies Lex gifted us is sitting on the counter, and I set it on the nightstand before shoving my sleeves out of the way and scrubbing my hands in the sink. They’re healed enough this won’t be a problem.
“I can take care of this, you know,” Zane says while I pick at the tape holding the bandages.
“I’m aware,” I mutter.
I seat myself on the edge of his bed while he yawns then grimaces at how it stretches his injuries.
“Don’t touch,” I say before he can raise his hand to his face. “I’ll be damned if you get those burns infected now. They’re actually healing very well.”
He grumbles something and stares at my damaged implant. Well, as long as he isn’t making intense, let’s-have-a-heart-to-heart eye contact, he can stare all he wants.
I haven’t been taking direct care of Zane’s injuries when Lalia is always insisting upon doing it and Bat has been keeping a close eye, but I’ve seen plenty. We’re lucky nothing is going to damage his eye permanently—the burns got a little too close for comfort. Half his eyebrow might never make an entire reappearance though. The burns along his cheek and temple and neck are healing much better than I’ve been worrying over, thanks a great deal to lex and her hoarding of medical equipment, but there still might be some noticeable patches of damaged skin by the time it’s healed. There are surgeries and treatments for such afflictions, but something about Zane strikes me as refusing to take part in such things. He’s probably going to be proud of his new battle scars.
Still, while I clean the healing wounds and reapply ointment, I say, “I’m sorry some of these are gonna scar.”
Another yawn, “I took a look yesterday, not too bad.”
His eyes flicker to my face, but he’s seen me enough I don’t take it as insult. “Well, not too bad compared to me, but I don’t think that should be the measuring stick, do you?”
He smiles sideways. “Probably not… Ya know, given the level of pure awkward last night, I’m mildly surprised to see you still here.”
Yeah, they’re much easier to talk to than their parents. “I’ll admit, I solidly considered flying away.”
“We would’ve hunted you down.”
“That was my main deterrent.”
He snickers, then puts a hand on his middle. He’s having a hard time raising his arms without hurting himself, so I help him take off his shirt and tend to the burns there. The bruises from his ribs are still ugly as anything, but I’m not too worried about those.
“What did my dad say to you? I saw him go back in the living room.”
Yikes, I don’t want to talk about this again. “Nothing really, tell you some other time. Or ask Yvonne, she was there.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Did you lie about them wanting me here?”
He blinks, eyebrows twitching in an expression that might be hurt. “Of course not.”
His tone sounds equally wounded. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I believe him. “Okay.”
“Was it really that bad?”
I glance at him. His expression is…gloomy. “Nothing unreasonable.”
After a pause, he says, “Sure.”
His tone betrays some mistrust, but he lets the matter drop and so do I.
I let him know about the plan to try to figure out if Amerov’s orphanage story is true. He frowns but doesn’t argue. I don’t know if he trusts me or is confident enough in his ability to hunt me back down if I never return. I’ve been running from Amerov for years, I think I can run from these two humans, but I don’t bother saying so. Don’t want to give him reason to worry.
I’ll be coming back.
“I can go with you,” he offers when I’m done explaining.
“You’re here to rest, dumbass. Bat’s plenty, and Yvonne and Anya will come, anyway.”
“Okay, well, will you stay for breakfast?”
I’d rather die. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
“They’ll come around, they’re just shocked—”
“Actually, it was a mistake for me to come here in the first place. We’re here now, so it can’t be changed. But I shouldn’t’ve come, and I certainly shouldn’t stay for breakfast.”
I don’t mean to be harsh, but I want to be honest, and I keep my tone a gentle as possible. His eyes flicker down, and I see the sadness there. I wish I could fix it, but there’s nothing to be done. He talked me into this, and we both know it. I don’t hold it against him, not when I believe he truly thought this was a wise decision, but I’m sure he’s considering it.
Painfully, I say, “I know you thought it was a good idea, I just don’t. That’s not your fault.
He nods slowly, then gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I don’t think it was a mistake, but I get it. Just as long as you don’t leave without us.”
What am I supposed to do with these humans? I didn’t know when they first bombarded their way into my lives, and I still don’t know. But I promised Lalia, and I’m going to keep it.
Bat and I spend the night in our ship.
When I return to the house, Lalia doesn’t bother trying to ask me inside. I glance in the window and get a peek at Yvonne and Anya on the couch, neither of them talking. Anya is tucked under her sister’s arm, out light a light. They’re both safe in there.
I don’t sleep well. Despite my little walk and thinking through it all, my mind doesn’t stop turning the interaction with Masyn over in my mind. The way the mother stared at me, and how both of them kept as much distance from me as possible when Zane and Lalia had been quick to get as up and close in my personal space as quickly as possible
They’re nothing alike. They don’t need to be, but it hurts more than I’d like anyway.
When I do sleep, I don’t much care for my dreams. Bat sleeps on my chest then tucked under my arm, not even bothering with his cot. I’m grateful for the companionship. I didn’t want to bother him, but he seems happy to keep me company.
Still, I’m up before the sun rises, tucking Bat back under the covers and wandering around the underside of my ship. Mist hangs on the verge of becoming rain. Trees are heavy shapes in the dawn, a few birds calling, barely any signs of life to this place. It seems so slow, so peaceful. A lovely, calm place, if my brain would calm down with it. I try one more to imagine myself a child here, running through the trees, and it’s even more unbelievable than before. I was born to Amerov’s metal and rocky surface, nothing before, nothing softer, will ever be correct.
No one seems up, no lights on in the house.
I get a bit of a terrible idea, but it’s not as if either of them are going to like me less. They didn’t tell me not to come into their house, anyway. The front door is unlocked and quiet as I ease it open. Everything silent save Yvonne and Anya’s breathing on the couch. The fire has long gone out, but the house retains some warmth. I’d noticed pictures along the walls yesterday, but it had been dark, and I’d been too nervous to wander their house looking at their private items. I remember the sibling’s ship having pictures too, and grimace at the remembrance of their loss. Another thing for their parents to hold against me.
It’s still early, but there’s enough dim grey light for my eyes to work on the photos. I skim along those hanging on the opposite wall, trying to pick out familiar faces. Some, I don’t think are anyone I’ve met, but there are definite photos of the siblings in different ages. I almost snort at a lanky teenage Zane and Lalia’s curly hair cut. It’s much tamer now.
It takes longer than expected to find what I’m looking for. But I do spot two separate photos with a child who’s obviously supposed to be me. Both of them are taken in the front yard, with Zane. I can’t tell which kid is which. The idea I’m supposed to be identical to Zane…what an odd concept. I touch one of the photos, but it’s just paper. I don’t feel it well under my improperly-healed fingers.
Carefully, I creep down the hallway where Zane disappeared last night. It’s a short hallway. Off to my right, there’s an open door and a large bed, two people under the covers. I turn away, embarrassed to be looking in on their room. I’m certain they would be pissed if they woke and found a nightmare glancing in at them in the half-dark.
The door at the end of the hallway is closed, a single heat signature on the other side. Sitting up. I tap on the door as softly as I can, and hear a whispered, “Yes?”
Quiet as the dead, I crack the door and peek inside. Zane is sitting up in bed, still half under the covers, staring at me sleepily.
“Did I wake you?” I ask, and he shakes his head, gesturing for me to come in and rubbing his face gingerly.
I shut the door behind me, taking in his room. It’s not large, but there are pictures hung on the walls, a bed opposite the door with a wooden back, a window at the head of it, and a desk near another door that’s probably the bathroom. I’ve been stuck with Zane for weeks, one of the nosiest people I know, and I still feel sheepish snooping around his stuff. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I lean over the desk to get a look at the photos. Most are him and Lalia and me—well, their brother. I don’t recognize any of the locations.
Don’t even recognize myself.
Zane is looking at me expectantly. I shrug. “Sorry, nothing’s sparking any memories.”
He shrugs, but I can see the disappointment. “It’s alright, we’ll figure it out.”
His voice is about as rough as his appearance, but he grabs a glass of water off the nightstand before I can think about getting him one. I look at his disheveled hair and clothes he slept in, and the way the bandages definitely need replacing, and sigh. Poking my way into the bathroom, I search for the medical kit Lalia brought in last night. One of the boxes of supplies Lex gifted us is sitting on the counter, and I set it on the nightstand before shoving my sleeves out of the way and scrubbing my hands in the sink. They’re healed enough this won’t be a problem.
“I can take care of this, you know,” Zane says while I pick at the tape holding the bandages.
“I’m aware,” I mutter.
I seat myself on the edge of his bed while he yawns then grimaces at how it stretches his injuries.
“Don’t touch,” I say before he can raise his hand to his face. “I’ll be damned if you get those burns infected now. They’re actually healing very well.”
He grumbles something and stares at my damaged implant. Well, as long as he isn’t making intense, let’s-have-a-heart-to-heart eye contact, he can stare all he wants.
I haven’t been taking direct care of Zane’s injuries when Lalia is always insisting upon doing it and Bat has been keeping a close eye, but I’ve seen plenty. We’re lucky nothing is going to damage his eye permanently—the burns got a little too close for comfort. Half his eyebrow might never make an entire reappearance though. The burns along his cheek and temple and neck are healing much better than I’ve been worrying over, thanks a great deal to lex and her hoarding of medical equipment, but there still might be some noticeable patches of damaged skin by the time it’s healed. There are surgeries and treatments for such afflictions, but something about Zane strikes me as refusing to take part in such things. He’s probably going to be proud of his new battle scars.
Still, while I clean the healing wounds and reapply ointment, I say, “I’m sorry some of these are gonna scar.”
Another yawn, “I took a look yesterday, not too bad.”
His eyes flicker to my face, but he’s seen me enough I don’t take it as insult. “Well, not too bad compared to me, but I don’t think that should be the measuring stick, do you?”
He smiles sideways. “Probably not… Ya know, given the level of pure awkward last night, I’m mildly surprised to see you still here.”
Yeah, they’re much easier to talk to than their parents. “I’ll admit, I solidly considered flying away.”
“We would’ve hunted you down.”
“That was my main deterrent.”
He snickers, then puts a hand on his middle. He’s having a hard time raising his arms without hurting himself, so I help him take off his shirt and tend to the burns there. The bruises from his ribs are still ugly as anything, but I’m not too worried about those.
“What did my dad say to you? I saw him go back in the living room.”
Yikes, I don’t want to talk about this again. “Nothing really, tell you some other time. Or ask Yvonne, she was there.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Did you lie about them wanting me here?”
He blinks, eyebrows twitching in an expression that might be hurt. “Of course not.”
His tone sounds equally wounded. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I believe him. “Okay.”
“Was it really that bad?”
I glance at him. His expression is…gloomy. “Nothing unreasonable.”
After a pause, he says, “Sure.”
His tone betrays some mistrust, but he lets the matter drop and so do I.
I let him know about the plan to try to figure out if Amerov’s orphanage story is true. He frowns but doesn’t argue. I don’t know if he trusts me or is confident enough in his ability to hunt me back down if I never return. I’ve been running from Amerov for years, I think I can run from these two humans, but I don’t bother saying so. Don’t want to give him reason to worry.
I’ll be coming back.
“I can go with you,” he offers when I’m done explaining.
“You’re here to rest, dumbass. Bat’s plenty, and Yvonne and Anya will come, anyway.”
“Okay, well, will you stay for breakfast?”
I’d rather die. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
“They’ll come around, they’re just shocked—”
“Actually, it was a mistake for me to come here in the first place. We’re here now, so it can’t be changed. But I shouldn’t’ve come, and I certainly shouldn’t stay for breakfast.”
I don’t mean to be harsh, but I want to be honest, and I keep my tone a gentle as possible. His eyes flicker down, and I see the sadness there. I wish I could fix it, but there’s nothing to be done. He talked me into this, and we both know it. I don’t hold it against him, not when I believe he truly thought this was a wise decision, but I’m sure he’s considering it.
Painfully, I say, “I know you thought it was a good idea, I just don’t. That’s not your fault.
He nods slowly, then gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I don’t think it was a mistake, but I get it. Just as long as you don’t leave without us.”
What am I supposed to do with these humans? I didn’t know when they first bombarded their way into my lives, and I still don’t know. But I promised Lalia, and I’m going to keep it.
