Black Equation - The Gifted Ones

Number Nine

“I wanted everything to remain the same, but feelings fade and people change.”

Number Nine

Amnesia…

But it didn’t make sense. The Master would never let Faye be in a car accident after what happened. How did she really lost her memory? Why did Rael lie?

Did it matter? She had forgotten him, forgotten them…

With a deep sigh, Krad pushed himself off the wall and trudged his way towards the stairs. The last ten minutes had truly exhausted him, had mentally drained him of what little energy he reserved in his body. He was so tired that he could literally sleep on his feet. Yes, sleep would make him feel better. With just a pillow and a bed, he was ready to roll.

His head was starting to hurt, like all the lobes of his brain were being squeezed. On the contrary, his entire body was numb. He could not feel his muscles flexing, or even the floor underneath him. Bemused at the sight of his feet, he walked faster.

Barefoot. He was too excited to see Faye that he came to her barefooted. To think that there shouldn't be a real reason to be excited in the first place...

Hearing the approaching footsteps behind him, he paused but didn't turn around. Rael must have seen him leaving. He had not moved fast enough.

"What do you want?" he asked dryly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He stared at the Picasso reproduction hanging on the wall on his far side. He was sure that Rael was standing behind him with pity in his eyes, and he refused to see it.

"You were listening, weren't you?"

No need to lie. He shrugged, brushing off the concern so evident in Rael's voice. "So what?"

"Are you angry that I lied to you?"

He thought for a while, cautiously considering the question. It was hard to be mad at him. Rael was one of the few people that Krad actually liked, not because he is useful or skilled, but because he was a good person.

"No. Not really. You have your reasons."

"I was nosy." Yeah, you are damn right about that.  "I thought I knew what's best for you. I'm sorry."

Krad faced him. A one-sided smirk spread across his tanned face. "No blood, no foul, kiddo."

"But –”

"Stop it,” he stated with a wave of the hand. “Do you want me to be angry?"

Rael glanced around uncertainly. "No, of course not. I just don’t want you to start drinking again. Your kidney won’t handle alcohol as it is now."

Krad bristled at that, but he did not let his emotion show on his face. Instead, he grinned at him. "Faye is alive. That's all that matters."

Before Rael could react, Krad was already out of the back door. A very sunny mid-morning greeted him, and any other time, he would have appreciated the warmth on his skin, but today he only quickened his pace as if he was trying to outrun the heat.

Under the cover of the trees, he felt somewhat better. He found the scent of wood and leaves soothing, though he hated the bugs that came along with the ambience. Swatting away a few buzzing insects, as soon as he was far enough not to see the house, he decided to lean against one hardwood with the giant gnarled roots acting as his seat.

Itching for a drag, he went to get a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket only to find it empty. Out of all bad luck. He must have left it in the operating room. He did change his clothes before running, so there was no one to blame but him. Smoking was one of the nasty habits he adopted from the Light. At first, he vehemently refused the vice, aware that Faye would hate him for it. However, his stress had been too much and the temptation of release was too strong. After half a year of being in the company of smokers, he relented. Now, dying of lung cancer was another issue he would have to think about.