Traveller

Two

"-aren't taking her."

"-she's gonna die, Brendon!" a male voice with a hint of an Irish accent exclaimed.

"She's got an MI patch on, Jonny! If and when she wakes up, she'll alert her fellow agents and we'll be exposed." a deeper, smooth male voice countered.

"Shut it, Brendan! We are not leaving her here to die!" yet another, heavily accented, warm male voice retorted.

"That's Eoin's call, Joel." Brendan snarled.

"They're right, Brendan." Another man with an Irish accent declared. Rebel felt herself being lifted carefully by a strong, sturdy figure. Eoin, she assumed. "If we leave her, we're just as low as they are."

There was a moment of silence, then a small snort of contempt from Brendan, but nothing more.

Rebel fought against the wave of blackness and opened her eyes, only slightly. As she slipped in and out of consciousness, the world passed by her in a green, brown, and white blur. Suddenly, everything slowed. She felt herself being set down on something warm and inviting.

'A bed...'

The warmth of the sheets contrasting against her cold, wet hoodie threatened to pull her back into blackness, but, despite her great longing to give in, she fought with all her might to stay afloat.

"Where is she?" A female voice asked urgently.

"Eoin set her down in here." Rebel recognized Joel's warm voice, then she felt a gentle hand on her arm. Instinctively, eyes still closed, she attempted to shy away, a sharp pain spreading from her side and throughout her abdomen.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you.." came the soft, loving voice. "I'm here to do just the opposite."

-

The pain was blurred. But it was still great enough to cause her to loose consciousness. Flashbacks invaded her mind, despite her efforts to block them out.
Mocking laughter rang in her head, crescendoing until she thought her ears would bleed. Small, patchy flashes of white light invaded the darkness and safety of her closed eyelids, causing her to flinch, dodging imaginary bullets. Her bicep burned. The patch constricted around her arm like barbed wire, digging into the skin down to the bone. The pain was immense, and it took all she had not to wail her agony with the little breath she had inside of her.
But suddenly, it stopped. No light, just blackness and a heavy ringing in her ears.
'A-Am I.. dead...?'

Her eyes shot open.
"Calm down.. there's nothing to be afraid of.."
'Joel...'
His voice sent shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, her brown orbs sparkling with fear and dismay in the dim evening light.
"Hey there. I'm Joel.." He spoke softly, calmly, as though speaking to a frightened animal. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you." His glowing white eyes brightened the area around them slightly with a warm, soft light. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you called?"
Rebel looked away a bit, hesitant. She'd just met this man and, for all she knew, he could be planning to execute her... or worse. The man- Joel- looked as if he could take on a whole squad of agents singlehandedly, despite his warm, welcoming atmosphere. But, much to her dismay, she felt a sense of calmness washing over her like a wave, and a sense of security blooming in her chest. She'd trust her instincts on this one. He was trustworthy.
"I-I'm Rebel..." she spoke timidly.
"Ah, nice to meet you." He smiled warmly before continuing. "Now that I've gotten to know you a bit better, and vise-versa... what were you doing out there in the snow..?" His soft voice was laced with concern.
Rebel looked down. She didn't want to relive any of that over again. Tears began to sting her eyes as she fought against the urge to fling herself into Joel's arms.

'Weak.' The voices hissed.

'Coward.'

Joel placed a gentle hand on Rebel's shoulder.
"I get it. I won't force you."
They sat like that for a moment, silence crackling in the air like flames. His words kept repeating in her head.

'I won't force you.'

Her eyes closed, she began to drift off, until a bright flash of white light cut through the darkness in her mind. The sharp, all too familiar sound of metal on metal rang in her ears, making her gasp and jump.

'I won't force you.'

"Hey, hey.. what's the matter..?" Joel murmured.
"I-I.. th-the flashb-.." she let herself trail off.
"Flashbacks...?" He started, waiting for her approval.
"Y-yeah.." she whispered, head hanging a bit. Joel nodded knowingly.
"I want you to know that you're safe here, ok? We aren't the type to hurt you with no reason."
"B-But don't you have a reason..?"
Joel looked a bit taken aback. "And what would that reason be?"
"I-I'm a part of the M-MI... don't you hate us..?" Rebel muttered, bracing for the worst. Joel only sighed.
"Right now, I don't hate you; you seem kind. But you're injured, and I don't know what you're capable of when fully healed. And I don't know your story. You could be spy for all I know."
Rebel jumped at the assumption. "I-I.... I'm fleeing..."
Joel nodded, eyes gently urging her to continue.
"Let's just say... th-things didn't really work out for me there..." She said quietly, regret burning in her stomach.
"Ah, I see.." Joel murmured thoughtfully. "I can see you don't feel up to talking right now, so I'll leave you to rest." He said, rising to his feet. At Rebel's perspective, he towered over her, his figure betraying his kind, warm voice.
"Laura will be back in the morning to check on you. But, like I said, I suggest you get some sleep."
Rebel waited until he was long gone, then slowly, gingerly turned and laid on her back. The exchange kept repeating itself in her head, new details revealing themselves each time. But the one thing that really stood out to her were the four words he murmured:

"I won't force you."