An Assassin In Time

Chapter 4.2: Bullet Wounds And Bad Talks

Part Two
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What was he going to tell them about the wound? Only one thing could have done that, and if he told... Taff might figure the rest out.

Maybe he could put it back? No, probably not, and it was too painful a prospect. He could bandage it, and just make sure no one saw? Maybe. Taff might make him see the doctor at some point though. Hi Jones, yes, that is a scar. Oh, you were expecting a bullet wound? That's really specific. I told Taren I was shot? I tell Taren a lot of things. Okay, thanks for the check, bye! If only. He sighed, head dropping. The steam was starting to clear, and the room was chilling. Wrap the scar, then go to bed. No need to think about it tonight, right? He glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall. 8:07AM. Okay, no need to worry about it this fine, early morning of utter suck. He sighed again, kicking the base of the sink.

"Ow." He shook his foot, setting it down gingerly.

There were towels on a shelf in the corner, he grabbed one and ran it through his hair. It stuck up in white spikes, all around his head. He wrapped it around his waist, moving to the cabinet. Maybe there were some bandages in it...

Castian rummaged about the contents of the drawers till he found a gauze roll and pads. Hah. He wrapped his leg tightly, the movements almost mechanic.

Field medicine had been drilled into him since he was knee high on Taff. Since... Since he could remember. So about five, maybe a little less, possibly a bit more. By Castian's count he was at least sixteen, but more likely seventeen, maybe even eighteen. Taff thought he'd been about five when he had pulled Castian and the other four from the failing Field, rescuing them. Not that it mattered really. Castian had never had a birthday since he could remember, he just counted off the first of the year, added on a few months for when he'd gotten there. Their Field didn't even have seasons, it was just twilight, forever. They counted the days by clock, and nothing else. Right now, they were August, but August was the same as December in the Field.

Castian knotted the last of the bandages off and stood. He swayed.

A buzzing filled his head. The space behind his eyes began to pound. O...kay then. He swayed, clutching at the sink. The room spun faster and faster around him. The blaring music receded. Nausea punched into him, squeezing out a tight breath. Laying down before he fell on his face seemed like... a really good idea.

Castian staggered, moving towards the door. He fell against it and grunted, gripping the handle tightly. Come on, make it to the bed before you pass out, God. Maybe the day of running around and getting shot at was catching up with him. That or the four murders had carved a chunk out of his soul and taken his ability to stand up straight with it.

Fumbling the door open he stepped out into his room. Something wasn't right. Castian slowly forced his eyes over to the door.
Taff was leaning against it.

"Sit down, Castian," he said in his even voice. Too, even. Whenever it was that even, someone was about to get hit in the face with the side of something hard.

"Taff, I..."

"Sit," he cut in, word final. His sculptor quality lips twitch in a smile. It didn't even begin to reach his dark eyes.

Castian staggered over to the bed, barely keeping the towel from slipping off. Taff stood and walked into the bathroom. A moment later, the music shut off. The silence was louder than the shrieking guitar solo had been. Castian swallowed. His heart began to beat as hard as it had when he was running through the street for his life. His head beat with it, turning the room around him like a top.

Taff reappeared in the bathroom doorway, wiping his slender fingers on a tissue. Blood stained it, it was probably Castian's. Blood looked weird on his hands, so bright against his pale skin. He gave that same definitely-not-a-smile again, moving into the room. The bathroom door clicked shut behind him.

"How's the leg?"

"Flesh wound," Castian muttered. "I took care of it."

"You bled all the way from the Warp room to here." He pointed an elegant finger at the floor. Castian's blood had pooled on the wood in red footprints.

"Taff, I'm--"

"You got blood on the walls, put a hole in a very expensive Warp suit, killed eight people who you weren't supposed to, and," he raised a finger, "you were gone fourteen hours and twenty-five minutes, fifty-nine seconds."

Eight. Castian's breath caught in his throat. Which meant nine total. God. So many people. So many people he hadn't wanted to kill. "Was one of them the sheriff, at least?" Castian asked, forcing humor into his tone. He wanted to throw up again and then pass out for the next week.

"No."

"Okay, that literally isn't fair," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up, Taff's eyes were on his leg. On the two clean bandage there. Castian shifted slightly, and the towel covered it again.

Taff looked him in the eye again. "It was sloppy, Castian. That bastard Narus almost didn't pay me the other half." He inspected one of his nails, apparently decided that it was dirty, and wiped it on the tissue. "Sloppy," he repeated, looking at Castian with his dark gaze. "You don't want to be sloppy."

Castian couldn't say anything. His ears were ringing, and the room was tilting farther and farther.

"You will do better next time. I haven't poured all this time into your training for nothing." He met Castian's eyes. "We both know how important time is to me, almost as important as the truth."

Turning, he left the room, locking it behind him. Castian stared at the ceiling, dropping back on the bed. His eyes shut.

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So what do you think of Taff? He seems... Controlling, and I think Castian might just a little afraid of him.

I hope you enjoyed the read, as always, leave a vote or comment if you did. Tell me what you thought, I don't bite. Much. I apologize if the formatting is different, I'm posting off my phone, and I had to send myself everything through discord because browser Wattpad isn't working. Also if somehow a part got pasted out of order and I missed it, tell me and I'll fix it.