Shards

Recovery

The sound of a gunshot wakes Octavia with a start. She moans and rubs her face where the Tarnished woman was shot.

At least since her pain meds have lessened the nightmares have become less vivid.

Days passed in blurs under their influence. Flashes of memories of eating liquified foods and using bedpans are pretty much all Octavia can remember. That and she has not seen Shard since first waking up. Aside from reluctant Blue Coats (some more than others) checking in on Octavia, Shard's uncle is the only other person who has come to see her. He's not been much company, though - much to Octavia's relief. All he does is sit in the room for a while, ask Blue Coats about Octavia's progress, work on a tablet Octavia never sees the face of, and leave.

Despite having no interest in this man, something in her nags to have human interaction beyond listening to dry directions from Blue Coats. The nagging is easy to ignore for a couple days until she just needs to say something. The ever-present questions she has uncomfortably grown used to give her something to say.

She runs several through her mind she could ask.

Why did Shard put so much on the line for me? Why does he want me alive when he knows I would be more than happy to see him dead? What is my ransom? What about that conversation before I fell asleep from who knows how long ago?

Through all these and other questions, she decides to start small.

"Who are you?" she asks in a tired voice.

The man glances at her from his chair in the corner of the room furthest from her. Surprise lights his eyes for a moment until the expression falls into a bland, indifferent face. His attention diverts back to his tablet.

She asks him a second time. He ignores her.

Octavia huffs. Shard at least would've given her some sort of dumb or redundant response at this point.

"You're nothing like your nephew," she says, "if he's even actually your nephew and that's not some endearment term from the slums. Don't pretend I can't hear your accent. I can tell where you're from."

These words reap a cutting glare. Standing, the man slaps his tablet facedown on his chair. He stomps halfway across the room towards her.

"No. It's not an endearin' term in the slums. Shard is my nephew. My biological nephew," the man says.

"How?" Octavia asks. "You look nothing alike."

"Yeah. Bein' altered to have biology more akin to mood rings and werewolves will make anyone look less related to anyone." The man's voice is gruff.

"Why did he have that done to himself then?"

The man bursts out into laughter. His laughter is not like Shard's, either. There is a darkness to it. He throws his head back for a second, then slowly shakes it.

"Shard would've never done that to himself," the man says. "Those changes were the handiwork of 'cosmetic' scientists. He'd kill to look any bit more like my sister or his father."

"Why would he?" Octavia asks. "He told me it was done to him as a kid. At least his eyes, anyway. If that's the case, that means his parents put him in the Child-Serviced Work Program, which my great aunt and the Committee with her made illegal because of how inhumane the system was - parents essentially selling their off children to make money. That's why she developed the current Wellfare Program that my father continues to expand."

"Ha! Like the Wellfare Program is any better than the Child-Serviced Work Program was. Because my sister, pregnant with Shard, was one of the first to 'take advantage' of this new, 'more humane' program. She had faith in that round of Rhineharts and paid hell for it."