I Am A Flyer

II: Fall Before You Can Fly

Gray had left a long time ago. It was dark outside, and sometime late into the night. The nurses had come and gone, changing his bandages, forcing fluids down his throat, giving him some more pain medication, but not too much. For the first time in a long while, Jett had time to think.

He had a lot to think about.

In that last battle, how many had died? When one of the doctors had come to check on him, Jett had asked. The doctor had smiled apologetically, and said that the only survivors could be counted on two hands. That only flyers and flyer-trainees had survived.

That meant that Scares was dead. As well as Boomer, Lydia, Mei. . .that young, blonde soldier. . .face after face began to flash through his mind. He couldn't recall their names, but he'd seen them, talked to them – some of them had even helped him during that 'tag game' training session. Flyers, too – which ones of them had survived, and which ones had died?

There was no agonizing grief. There were no tears. There was only a numb feeling, and a deep regret that these people had to die.

Did they have families? People who'd be affected by their deaths, who'd remember them and their absence for the rest of their lives? Jett found himself hoping that there was. He knew that if he died, there'd be no one to remember him. His mother was dead, his father was non-existent. The entire village hated him. And Ravia. . .he didn't know where she had gone.

He was alone.

Maybe for the best, he thought. Drifting away from thoughts of the dead, he allowed his mind to wander. The drugs that the doctors had pumping into his system did more than dulled his pain. It dulled his thinking, and he found himself fading into a kind of dreamy haze. It was a gradual dive, one that he barely noticed. His eyes began to close, and tired of being conscious, of thinking, he allowed himself to float.

When the doctors came an hour later, he was barely aware. He didn't see their tightened mouths, their darkened faces. He didn't even feel their hands as they stripped the bandaging from his wound, cleaned it out, and began wounding long strips of gauze around it. He was completely unaware, otherwise he would've wondered why they were putting a sort of cast on his leg when it wasn't even broken.

oOo

It was a little past midnight. Raven, in his black flyer uniform, seemed to be part of the night itself, as he strode throughout the camp. His face was shadowed, his movement giving off a sense of urgency and seriousness.

He picked out a certain, smaller tent, and stalked inside. "Is it ready?" he asked the tent's occupants.

Bleary eyes rose to meet his, and drawn, weary faces greeted him. "Yes," one of the technicians answered quietly. "It's done." He waved a hand at one of the others, who were sitting in various places, snoozing.

A tech stood up, being a little more energetic than the others. He fetched a large box, and came, setting it down in front of Raven. He waited, a little nervous.

The first tech reached into the box, lifting out a bundle of thick, black material. He held it out to the Talon. "Here."

Raven took it, shaking it out. It unraveled, and became a plain, one piece suit that was the foundation of any flyer suit. Only, this one was a little different. It was small, built for someone who wasn't very big at all. Also, one of the legs had been modified, being slit down the side, and having several large fasteners to enable the wearer to adjust its fit.

"Good." The Talon carefully placed the suit back in the box, folding it neatly. Then he picked up the box, looking over the exhausted techs. "Thank you."