Double Or Nothing: A Coin Flip Away

Recoveries Take Their Toll

The air tastes of cinnamon and sweet flowers. A candle flickers on the table beside the nightstand. Somewhere from the window outside, the call of a foreign bird echoes through the stained glass frame. There is nothing to see but darkness beneath her bandages. Only a keen sense of smell, touch and hearing could guide her through the stasis she is tasked with enduring. The wound still stings at her side, a piercing blade driven through one rib and straight across into her other side. Although stiff with swelling and signs of healing, the procedure won't happen for a long time. Not until a proper physician can see her.

Jules struggled to roll over to her stomach without scraping her sides on the soft cushions of the mattress. Every time she tried to move something, anything around her ribs, a riveting blast of agony drove up her spine and lit up every bone in her body, forcing her down to her backside. Jules tossed herself over, her limbs fatigued from being bedridden for so long. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen her mother's tear-streamed face and Jack's genuine expression of shock and fear. And then there were her siblings, and her father. 'Dad,' Jules echoed from her mind. But nobody responded.

The squeak of a door sliding open brought Jules' onto her back, motionless in bed. Risking any sign of movement could get her scolded into a headache. Sitting as still as she could on the mattress, the hammering footsteps and whir of mechanical joints creaking slid close to the bedside while a large bulb of titanium rested itself on Jules' shoulder. A voice, bubbly and monotonous, echoed from beyond Jules' bandaged head. "Vital signs are positive. She's well for someone whose torso has been pierced by an Angelic bullet." Another voice accompanied the first.

"Yes, just like her teacher, I've gathered she's a tough nut to crack. But The Sin Hunter worries too much." Jules shuffled in her "sleep", shuffling ever slightly to get a good ear on the conversation. The large footsteps of the mechanical deity Morpheus('Was that his name?' Jules struggled to recall) moved toward the echoes of birds at the stained glass window overlooking the atrium. "Yes he does. I fear that, when the time comes, he may be prepared to make a sacrifice none of us will be happy with." The clatter of a tray and the screwing of a fresh bag of medicine twisted the IV on Jules' left forearm. Small hooves trotted toward Morpheus.

"Do you really think that he would-?" "I'm positive, Winfrey," Morpheus' watery throat declared with a heaving sigh. "Jackson is a competent detective and an even stronger-willed duelist. There's little doubt in my mind that, in his final bout, he will keep the enemy at bay and bring the walls down on himself for the good of all." Jules shuffled in her bed, her eyes blinking back tears that made the bandages damp on her face. The shuffling of sleeves and the clicking of hooves circled the bed stand, moving toward the tray at the nightstand beside Jules' IV stand.

"You poor thing," the second voice murmured, moving away from the bed and toward the door. A set of sharply trimmed fingernails clicked on the smooth wood surface before pausing somewhere in the doorframe. "Keep an eye on her for me, Morpheus. I'll return with more medicine soon." "Of course, Winfrey," the Technological Tyrant replied. After the door had closed, however, Morpheus sighed, his gears twisting and realigning while the tubes pumping water through his gills bubbled before turning to the bedridden Jules.

Metallic gloves rested on the wooden frame while a mechanical tendril coiled around Jules' head, gently pulling back the bandages. "You suffered a wound to your torso. But I assume those ears still work fine." Jules cracked a smile, sitting upright while keeping her pillows wrapped around her waist. "How did you know I was awake?" She grinned. Morpheus' tentacled beard curled upward in a smile. "I have three children of my own genetics, little one. I know when they stay up past their bedtime." Jules sighed, her eyes drifting toward her fedora resting on the bedpost opposite her.

"Fair enough. You are the god of knowledge down here. Well, I, uh," Jules stammered, holding up a pillow-stuffed armpit, "oh, forget it. You know what I mean." Morpheus smiled, his frosty exterior warming at the edges. Jules pursed her lips, weaving her fingers into a worried tapestry. "All that stuff you said about Jack...do you really mean that?" Morpheus lowered his gaze, gently tapping his large titanium fingers across his bulky armored shell. "I know what I said, little one. Your mentor is a competent man, willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good of all.

"He may survive, he may not. But I don't believe we will see much of him after this bloody war has ended." Jules sat forward, testing her wound before coughing. The scent of orange candles was obnoxious in her nostrils. "Well in that case, when can I get out of here fast enough to save him?" Morpheus rested his gargantuan hand against Jules' forehead, easing The Sin Hunter back into her pillow fortress. His large silver gauntlet swept over Jules in a bath of pulsing blue lines. "Hold still, please," Morpheus responded.

The lines retracted into his glove, ringing a notification on the display screen of his glove. After mulling over the scan, Morpheus snapped his gauntlet shut. "The report says you still have severe damage to your rib cage and internal arteries. I'm afraid your earliest release time, according to the scan, is three months from now." Jules slumped, her arms crashing into the waves of pillows surrounding her. "Well that's great," she mumbled, holding back tears. The Lord of Sloth returned to Jules' bedside, brushing his hands over The Sin Hunter's forehead. "It is better you remain here, anyways. You're in good hands."

Morpheus turned for the door, pausing. "We've already risked so much..."