Fallen Ash

Chapter Fifteen: Vigil

Her breathing was ragged. She stood there with her eyebrows furrowed gazing at him. The universe wasn't against her after all, she thought - the universe might not have even been aware of what she was planning. Her rebellion against it was embryonic, the shell of her new role not even slightly cracked.

Austin looked back at her awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Heather called," he said quietly. "She said she saw me at the station earlier, and you came looking for me."

"Heather?" she repeated in disbelief.

He nodded. "I gave her my number back when you returned my parka, remember?"

She didn't. She had felt humiliated that day, and reluctantly returned the parka to convince Heather she was ready for an assignment. Ash hadn't wanted to face the boy again - the indignity of being helped by a human was too much for her.

Austin sighed and averted his gaze. Under his parka, he was wearing a grey sweatshirt, the hood of which was resting on the crown of his head and covering his ears.

"I'm sorry about the other day," he said morosely. "I don't think I thanked you."

"It's okay," she replied breathlessly, standing straighter.

He shook his head. "No," he said quietly. "By the time I got to the cottage, I was angry with you for pushing me into leaving. I don't think I've ever hated someone as much as I hated you then. It drove me nuts seeing you on the train, looking out the window, then looking at me, over and over again, like a sad puppy. After a while, you get so sick of being pushed, you just assume people have the wrong intentions, when actually they're doing the right thing for you."

She looked at him flabbergasted. His words were coming out so fast and frantically, she couldn't make sense of what he had been trying to say until his voice drifted away. She had an inkling he was irritated with her, and angry at something, but hadn't realised what was actually going on in his head. It hadn't occurred to her that those two emotions might have been intertwined.

"Don't be sorry for how you feel," she told him.

He laughed bitterly, but he relaxed his shoulders now that it was off his chest. "I'll try," he said. "I wanted to apologise sooner, actually, but I didn't know how to get in touch with you."

They began walking side-by-side, the heaving of her chest beginning to subside. Her muscles pumped heat energy through her body, right down to tips of her fingers, and she felt the film of sweat that had coated her against the brisk wind, cooling her flushed cheeks and forehead. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation. The scene outside the station, as they walked down the steps, was much the same as it had been when she had entered - only her circumstance had changed with him beside her. That was when she remembered the battered smartphone in her jacket pocket.

"I have a phone," she said, holding it up.

"You know, it wouldn't have surprised me if you didn't."

"To be honest," she muttered peering down at it suspiciously, "I don't really know how to use it. Heather showed me that this button opens up a map and I use that one a lot. I know I can call people in my contacts list if I touch this button, but I've never used it."

"So, you're saying your phone is just a glorified map?"

Ash nodded glumly. "I guess. I don't even know what my phone number is."

"What kind of phone is it?" he asked, peering down over her shoulder. "Oh. It's the same as mine, just an older model. I can show you."

Wordlessly, she handed him the phone, and they stood off to the side of the pavement. She watched as he tapped at the screen, muttering to her as he explained himself. She didn't think she would remember, but at least she had a vague idea - it wasn't her fault everything looked the same to her. When a string of numbers appeared on screen, so small she might have overlooked it, he took his own phone out and began tapping away at that. She eyed him curiously.