Boundaries

Tish: hightops

{Tish}

The hunters had cleared out of the medical rooms for Conor and Ralph, who looked a lot better than the last time I had seen him. Conor tilted his head at me in a curious sort of gesture. Grant came in behind me, giving Ralph a wave.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," Conor said. "I see you've been given a pair of your own glasses."

"Yeah, they suck," I agreed. "Anyway, I'll cut to it. I'd like you to teach me how to shift. Grant said he'd stay with Ralph in the meantime. What do you think about that?"

Conor frowned. "He'd stay here until I got back? What if the hunters call him away?"

"Then I won't go," Grant said. "We talked to them about this. Of course they want Tish to learn faster, and I'm not going anywhere for a while. I promise, Conor."

"Okay," he said slowly. "So right now?"

"I don't see why not; you're not doing anything," I pointed out. "We'll go out, we'll get you some tennis shoes, and we'll come right back to train around the corner. I'm guessing you don't have tennis shoes?"

"Um, no." Conor managed. "But..."

"You should go," Ralph encouraged. "Get out, Conor. Go do something. Or I can find those math sheets Mel was talking about."

Conor groaned dramatically, but rose from his seat. Grant sat on the other side of Ralph, getting comfortable as I reached for Conor's hand. I headed out the door, though Conor paused, looking back at Ralph.

"Go," Ralph told him again. "I'll be safe with Grant. You know that."

I tugged his arm and dragged Conor out into the hall. He stumbled once and then picked up his pace.

"Why do I need shoes?" he inquired. "I'm wearing shoes. Or I'll go barefoot."

"Because the training floor is this terrible rubber stuff and it's pokey," I replied. "And because you haven't been out of this building since you got here. Grant's worried you're going stir crazy."

"I've been stuffed in a cage before, I'm fine," he replied. "I worry about Ralph."

"Ralph is a strong dude, he'll be fine too," I promised. "Now come on."

Conor blinked at the bright light of the outdoors, shielding his eyes from even the cloudy Chicago day. I pulled out my phone and looked up the nearest shoe store, not having thought this plan through to any sort of extent. Sasha would get upset that I left the building without permission, but Sasha could suck it. I set a course and pulled Conor through the sidewalks and crosswalks, determined to get back before anyone had a meltdown and came to fetch us.

"Do your glasses record sound?" Conor asked, having to speak loudly over the traffic noise.

"Not that I know of," I replied. "But I wouldn't really know. I won't be wearing them in the training room though; they'd get broken."

"Ah."

"So how is Ralph?" I asked, switching to safer subjects.

"His spine healed, his body is fine. He has numbness in his hands and can't feel anything lower than his waist," Conor sighed. "He's handling it well, but maybe too well? I think I would have freaked out by now."

"He's probably putting on a brave face for you," I pointed out. "That man loves you, Conor. He wants to spare you that sort of ...emotional burden."

"I can handle it," Conor protested. "I can't be the only one who's constantly being asked to open up. That's not fair."

"No, but you know that the world isn't fair," I pointed out and then pulled Conor into the store. He looked around at the bright colors and odd shoes with doubt in his eyes. I didn't blame him.