To The Blue

[Three]

"Yes sir, ma'am."

Sierra huffed frustrated and went downstairs, brought a loaf of bread and a cup of water for him. Peter cautiously took a bite and when he realized that she wasn't trying to poison him, shoved it down his throat, Sierra wondered how he managed 3 days without eating. He finished the bread in a matter of time and sighed, satisfied.

"Thanks for that."

"Don't mind it," Sierra muttered. She tried not to think about what her mother would say or think if she found out about this. She'd let this boy into her house (well, not really), she purposely didn't report him, and she'd even fed him.

She sat on top of her bed, watching Peter put things back on the shelf, pick up trash and shift furniture. As she was watching Peter McGuire shift a small desk, she noticed something and frowned.

"Hey." She called quietly.

"What?" Peter looked back stubbornly.

"Stop waving that and can you get me the pink box on that shelf?" Sierra ordered Peter, who glared at her.

"Why can't you go get it yourself?" He whined but brought the ordered box to her anyway, and when he opened the box and saw what's inside it, his face got complicated.

"Is this..."

"Your left arm. Are you injured?" Sierra said bitterly. Peter glanced his left arm, looking surprised.

"Oh, that...it's nothing." He replied. Sierra rolled her eyes.

"I noticed you covering that arm. Do you really think I'm that stupid to not notice it? And there is no choice. Let me see it. I can bandage it."

When Peter mumbled something under his breath but rolled up his torn shirt sleeve and unwrapped a careless bandage, Sierra couldn't help but gasp. On his left forearm was a long and deep gash with dried blood covering it, and from the look of the blood on the bandage, it must have bled a lot. Sierra wanted to look away from it, for that it wasn't very pleasant to look at.

"What happened?" She asked. Peter shrugged, trying to ignore the pain on his wound being exposed to the air.

"Gunshot. No biggie. The bullet barely even touched me."

"NO BIGGIE! What in Pluto is wrong with you? When? From who?"

"A gunshot, from about 4 days ago I think when I was running away. It was by a guard from the government of this society."

Sierra couldn't process what she just heard in her brain for a moment.

"The government? A person from the government shot you?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"I thought– I thought the government wasn't supposed to actually fire guns to anyone unless they're facing death in a one-to-one situation or the enemies are out-numbering them! They had it to like, scare people with the look of these guns. They aren't supposed to fire guns even when they're arresting someone unless it's a serial killer or something!" Sierra was shocked to hear this. The Government that she had been following, make a mistake and shoots a person?

"Or so you thought," Peter said bitterly.

"It wasn't the one-to-one situation, was it? And don't even think that I trust you fully yet. I just don't want you dead or infected or something, that's it."

"It wasn't."

"Let me just clean this first. Then, you've got some explaining to do."

Peter nodded. He had to clench his jaw to keep himself from wincing as Sierra carefully patted his wound with clean cotton and water. The pain he kept ignoring for the past 3 or 4 days came back, and he frowned and winced as the sharp pain shot through his arm while Sierra spread cream-medicine on his wound. He didn't even have the strength to complain. He just sat there, trying to bear the pain blazing through his arm with only about a half of success. He was exhausted and panting quietly all while trying to make sure that Sierra didn't hear him, as she finished wrapping the wound with white clean bandages. Peter gave up and lay flat on her bed.

"Couldn't you do it a little softer?" he complained, he immediately regretted it when he saw Sierra's expression.

"Sorry it's just, this was my first time actually doing that, okay? But I'm sorry if I put you in a lot of pain." Sierra bit her lip. She hated not being able to be helpful even if the boy lying in front of her is at least considered as a criminal. Even so, he was still a human being. And Sierra did notice all the paintings that Peter was trying to hide from her, though she didn't point it out.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. My arm feels so much better now. Really." It was true. Though it was still sore, Peter noticed how the wound wasn't hurting as much anymore.

Sierra nodded and stood up wordlessly and did the rest of the cleaning. When she was done, she sat on her bed, with a pillow in her hand.

"So," She said, looking at Peter, who now had settled himself on to one of the small chairs, his back against the wall. "You've got some explaining to-"

Just then, her phone rang.