Valuable Assests

Far

When I wake up my mind is much clearer than it has been. All I know is that I have to get up, have to move and have to pretend I'm fine. I stand up, taking a moment to steady myself, and start out the door.

"Wait a minute," Mason stands up from the chair I hadn't even noticed he'd been sitting in, "Where're you going?" I immediately harden myself to the world, taking on my home's uniform persona once more.

I pause in the doorway before turning back to him. "Last night ever happened. No one finds out, and we don't talk about it. I fought and went to sleep afterward," I take a deep breath, "That's all." I set my shoulders back and start out the hall with only an undershirt on as my tunic is ripped down the center. The first place I go is the mess hall. It's where the mass of things will be.

Max is sitting by one wall, armor gone as it was when he came to see me the second time. I walk to him slowly, standing a few feet away. I had navigated the crowd carefully as not to touch anyone.

His eyes widen as he looks up at me. "Are you sure you should be up," he asks.

"Nothing happened," I say softly. "Are you ok?"

Max raises an eyebrow. "Me? I'm not the one who," the look in my eyes must change his mood because he sighs. "I'm fine." I squat down to his level and stroke my thumb over his eyebrow.

"Your skin's broken here," I say. "Come on, let's go clean it up."

He looks up at me through his thick lashes. "It's no big deal," he says, waving his hand to dismiss it. I'm just trying to make things return to normal and he's not helping. My eyes slowly fill with tears that I'm desperately trying to hold back. I need this distraction. "Ok," he whispers, "Let's go clean it up."

He uncrosses his arms and follows me to the storeroom. I uncork a barrel of water and pull a cloth out of a rate, dipping it into the warm liquid and ringing it out until it's merely damp.

"Do I know any of the casualties," I ask, bringing the cloth above his eyes and dabbing away the blood.

There's a moment where he doesn't respond. "A couple bartenders, maybe, some newbies, Samuel, not many that I think you'd be familiar with."

"Who's Samuel," I ask as I finish cleaning the little cut. He looks at me blankly and swallows.

"My brother," he says softly.

My jaw drops and I stammer. "I'm so sorry," I say, "I-I didn't know." He shrugs. "Are you ok?" That's a stupid question. Of course he's not.

"No," he shakes his head, "No one is. But we all will be if given the time." He stands up and nods to the door. "C'mon." I follow him, feeling helpless and horrible for letting myself steal his attention as his brother lie dead.

We walk through the mess hall and out the side door. He leans his back against the building. Every bruise of my own pulses with pain. I push it out of my mind, not allowing myself to feel it. We both stand in satisfying silence. "May I hug you," I ask softly. He nods. I hesitate before wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.

I feel myself begin to sob and I can hear him doing the same. He wraps his arms around my back and I have to constantly remind myself that he's not the men from last night, that I'm ok. While it's terrifying to return to the realm of human contact, it's also relieving in its warmth.

Reluctantly, I pull myself away from him. "I guess we should go to the back of the building and show them we're both as strong as ever," I sigh.

He shakes his head, all traces of his tight smile retreating. "You don't always have to be strong."