In Which Ross Huron Keeps Track

In Which Ross Huron Keeps Track
September 5th, (finally), 2048, 2 : 0 1 A M

All Ross Huron knows is pain. Pain, eternal pain….

At one point, the pain lessens slightly and he thinks he might be able to function properly again, but the groan that escapes him is too much for his battered and bruised body, and he knows that his brain has shut down for a moment when he is conscious again. He can sense just one person in the room – a girl, maybe twenty or thirty years old. She’s shy and quick, but she’s eager to try her best. Even that quick scan with his closed eyes is a lot, but this time he fights to stay alert as the pain washes over him again.

“You awake?”

The sound hits his ears like a crashing cymbol, and he wonders if the ringing in his ears will ever stop. He does not answer, but she can tell he’s awake, and so she says a few more syllables that are slightly less harsh on his ears. “Painkiller’ll kick in in a couple of minutes.” The slang does not fit her, but she uses it anyway. Something she picked up from someone else.

He knows the words are true, because in a few minutes the pain is lessening, and each movement or sensation is no longer agony. He does not bother to waste his energy on questions, choosing instead to open one eye carefully and then the other, light spearing in his head and giving him a sharp headache.

“You’re awake.” Obvious, much? But her relief is clear.

“Your name…?” asks Ross. It is a funny thing to ask, but he asks it and instantly regrets it. At least he’ll have something to call her.

“Aragonia Felipo. People call me Ari. What’s yours?”

Ross groans, wondering if he should raise himself up on his elbows, then reflecting that he probably shouldn’t attempt it. “You already know my name.”

Of course she knows his name. He isn’t stupid, obviously, of course he knows that the Gods have been chasing him for a little under a year, that is why he’s been running. that is also probably why he’s been able to evade them for so long. Well. She should know his name, but she does not. She takes a few strides over to where his stuff lies, and reads the ID tag they somehow miraculously found in the debris of shattered glass. “You name is Ross Huron.”

“No, it is actually Henry Greene, and this has all been a horrible mistake.”

“Aren’t you too young for sarcasm?” She had meant to say ‘Aren’t you too sick for sarcasm?’ but it had come out awkwardly.

He smiles bitterly. “You’re never young if you’re on the run.” Why is he telling her so much? Because everything he knows is gone now, the Gods have got him, and if he’s not employed in their cruel Game he’ll be killed. He’s dead. Yeah. Might as well go down being sarcastic. Might as well go down laughing.

She blushes, turns away from him. Of course. He’s not too young, even if he’s fourteen. He’s an enemy of the Gods, therefore he’s also her enemy. He’s a major threat to everything the Yras have worked for in this day and age. He’s her enemy.

But he does not seem like much of a threat, lying on the bed, blood all over him, obviously weak and not in that great of health. He hasn’t eaten well in months, and his nails (those that aren’t covered in blood) are brittle and weak. She laughs softly to herself, reminding herself that this is the kid who thwarted his teachers with his amazing skills of brilliance, who was the cause of the killing of more than a dozen people. She laughs softly to herself, and she knows she can’t fear him, no matter what he’s done. Because that was the past, and this is now.

She does not think she notices him staring, because his eyes are closed and his face is contorted with pain. She jumps when he says something, and ever when her back is turned, she can hear his quiet chuckles.

“Staring is impolite.”

“Oh – I –“ She stammers, her voice breaking, offering no explanation.

“Yeah? You forget why the Gods hate me already? I dunno, maybe because of my
amazing mental abilites that no one else can comprehend.” His eyes are open now, but they’re narrowed, challenging.

“Erm, well, I –“

“Yeah. Quit staring, and remember my amazing mental abilities. On certain days I can tell what you’re thinking, and I don’t like sandwiches.”

She would have dropped whatever she was holding, so it is good she isn’t holding anything. Instead, she gazes at him in utter shock and surprise.

Score one for the kid who’s lost too much blood.

 

Author's Note

...The last line is meant to be in italics, but I can't be bothered with that at this point in time.

Later:
-hangs head in shame-