Like Moths to Flames - The Worst in Me

I didn't want to sleep, again, but I also didn't want to spend a second night staring at my ceiling, and possibly hear James wake from another nightmare. It made me feel sick to just think about. Instead I let Ailech drop me off at my room after our archery and then looped back down the hall once I heard his door close, heading for a small gym that was in the middle of renovations. I liked the look of the room, torn up with scaffolding and ropes and boards strewn about. It was like a gymnasium with all the equipment hanging from the ceiling, creating blocks and detours all around, almost like an indoor jungle, which is why I liked training there so much. Archery, knives, my Sign, all of it was different in such a cluttered space, in a situation that mimicked the real world better than a wide open gym.

I kept the lights off, so just the moonlight from the high windows, the ones that were barely above ground, illuminated the piles of wood on the floor in ghostly light, or the metal bars and construction ledges ten and twenty feet up the walls. I liked the deserted feel of the place, the quiet darkness. No one came looking for me here, though I rarely visited during the day. It was almost like my replacement secret place when I couldn't go to one of the artificial forests. Sometimes I didn't even train when I came, just sat and relaxed, sat and listened to the life of the Vault going on beyond the four walls surrounding me.

This time I wanted to train though, to throw my mind into something so I wouldn't have to think, wouldn't have to feel. I let my Shift put as soon as I closed the door behind me, taking in the new picture before me, painted in grays and blacks and whites, without a single shadow too deep to see through. It was beautiful and even more-so bathed in the soft moonlight. I dropped the bag from my shoulder and dug out the small crossbow I had been practicing with for the last two weeks or so. I sent my Sign out through the room, making the chains and ropes hanging off the scaffolding sway in a slight breeze before I decided on my targets. I had been working on speed lately, since my accuracy was usually acceptable by my standards.

I made my way to the center of the room slowly, ducking under low-hanging work, half-climbing over piles of material. But eventually I stood in the center of it all, watching the wind-made movements out of the corners of my darkened eyes, slowly counting down in my head until I would begin. I had fifteen arrows, each about eight inches long. They were lightweight for speed, but still strong enough to deal deadly damage. The bow reset quickly too, and was small enough when folded to easily be hidden along with the arrows, which is why I had wanted to learn to work with the crossbow in the first place. It was a little too conspicuous to carry a full bow around with me in the real world, and my glamours were still hardly reliable.

4...3...2...1

I let the arrows fly at each of my chosen targets, some embedding themselves in the wood of the walls, some in the construction debris, some glancing off chains or cutting through ropes. I released all fifteen arrows in just under as many seconds, and only missed two marks. Then I heard the breathing. A slow, even noise coming from the corner behind me. I should have known it was him, no one else could sneak up on me like he could, but I was still surprised he was there.

My heart jumped. I knew I had nothing to be afraid of, but it was disturbing to turn and find a pair of dark depthless eyes watching from the shadows. He looked like the thing of nightmares and I could only imagine how he would look to someone who didn't understand, who didn't know our world.

He stood perfectly still, silent, almost like he really was a demon, a ghost sent to watch me, but then he lifted his hand to push his dark hair from his face and the spell was broken. I took a deep breath, not realizing I had been holding it.

"Couldn't sleep?"

I saw his sharp teeth flash as he spoke, his head slowly raising until his chin was held just a little too high, making him look a little too arrogant, just like the James I knew.

"I haven't been tired lately," I lied in the same casual tone.

"Same," He lied back.

"Yeah, I heard this morning. Sounded rough."

Our conversation seemed a game, even if I couldn't tell what winning was. I could tell we were both playing, pretending to have a good-natured conversation as he stood Shifted in front of me, my own eyes just as dark, a smirk pulling at one side of his lips at my words.

"Had a dream I got old, scary stuff."

"I wasn't going to say anything, but I think I see some grays."

He smiled again, a little wider this time, apparently enjoying whatever it was we were doing.

"To think I missed your wit."

His voice held a strange tone and a shiver fought its way up my back.

"And to think I missed your lies," I answered dryly, making it just as clear as he had that I hadn't actually missed him at all.

He lifted one of my arrows that he held in his hand, twirling it between his thumb and index finger as he nodded to its intended target.

"You missed this too."

"Maybe I was aiming for you," I replied with a sweet smile, though I'm sure the sweetness was lost in my Shift. James seemed to appreciate the gesture regardless.

"You didn't know I was here. Quite the blunder on your part, by the way."

I scowled before speaking, narrowing my eyes for a moment to let him know his insult wasn't lost on me.

"True, but that doesn't mean I wasn't shooting for you," I paused to raise the crossbow in front of me, mock aiming at him. "You don't need to see something to try and kill it. One of the perks of our kind."

James nodded before his face became serious.

"Did Chimarah teach you that?"

It felt like he had slapped me. Just thinking of Chi made the pain of losing Syn reopen, like a wound that couldn't heal because it kept being stretched apart just as soon as the skin began to mend.

"You shouldn't have sent them for me, it made them a target. You should have left me with him."

There was a split second where James' face twisted into something feral and depraved like he was possessed, but then it was gone just as quickly as it had come.

"Syn isn't your fault. It's mine for not killing Jevin years ago, for not killing my father years ago. If I had done what I should have back then, then Syn would still be alive. So many would still be alive."

His voice almost sounded sad, though I'm not sure someone Shifted could really do the emotion justice.

"You're right. It is your fault."

I answered steely, my anger at the injustice of Syn's death looking for any outlet besides myself, who I knew was the real guilty one.

"Then why don't you make me pay?"

Then I saw what the end of the game was. It was impressive how quickly he could go from stone-still to lightning movement, and I suppose the same went for me. All the time standing there almost seemed like a buildup of my Shift's power in me, its anticipation, Having it grow larger and larger waiting to be called upon, and when it finally was it was glorious in the most terrible of ways. James had used the entire conversation to remind me of my anger, even if we both knew it wasn't really directed at him. I had still lost someone and that was all the fuel I needed to try my best to make him hurt. I wanted to make anyone pay for Syn's death, to hurt anyone, hoping it would make my own pain lessen.

The obstacles between James and I became advantages when you added in our Shifts. Each low hanging bar could be used to add momentum to a kick, each chain a whip, each nail on the ground a throwing dagger, each length of pipe a club, everything a weapon. Our dance was more intricate now, with every blow having the potential to be used against us, our arm or leg pulled through some part of the construction, bent around it, snapped. Our dance was more brutal now too, having items to use; bricks and metal and wood, my arrows still scattered around the room like Easter eggs. Even with the added details, there was a certain elegance to our fight, our movements. Ducking between bars, swinging over others, sometimes it was like we were flying, fighting on the scaffolds instead of the ground.

It was almost painful to stop, but I had an experiment in mind and jumped back from James suddenly, putting a pile of debris between us. I pulled my Shift back until I could see the dull colors of the room in the moonlight and waited for James to notice my change. He did quickly and paused, his head turned to one side slightly in that confused, canine-like way of his.

"No Shifts."

I tried to keep my voice even, so he wouldn't know what I was doing. He cocked his head to the other side before answering, an eerie movement with his solid eyes in the shadows, my own vision lessened with my human eyes.

"But that's no fun."

He took an aggressive step forward, grinning like a wolf, but I ignored his advance and stayed still, making the smile drop from his face.

"Fine."

His eyes lightened slightly to their deep, dark blue, white appearing around their edges, and I felt the familiar sadness at seeing how empty they looked. It was even more difficult to start the fight with the man in front of me than it had been to stop the wonderful dance with him when he was Shifted. It didn't seem fair to fight him like he was, but he still kept up, though I no longer enjoyed the movements, the counters and kicks and punches

We continued for a few minutes like that, fighting with a similar level of skill, but none of the fire or passion. But then I saw what I had been waiting for and a pit opened in my stomach.

We were in the middle of close combat, our arms flying at the other, elbows and fists and forearms. I was about to bring a knee up when James suddenly dropped to the ground with a pained moan, something I had never heard from him before, something I had never even imagined could come from his lips. He had both hands on the ground before him, sitting forward on his knees as he took deep breaths, gulping air, but I knew it wouldn't help. I could see his sharp shoulder blades through his white shirt, transparent from the sweat of our practice. His hair hung in front of his face, slick with some strands plastered to his neck and cheeks.

I wanted to drop to my knees next to him and throw my arms around him, and that's what I would have done a few short months ago, but that wasn't right anymore, didn't feel right anymore. He wasn't the same man I had known back then. He never actually had been.

His heavy breaths changed to dry heaves, his entire back rippling with each wracking cough, his shoulders shaking as each new wave hit. I could tell he hadn't eaten again, or maybe he had already been sick since his last meal, making his heaves even more painful. Then I saw the blood, splatters of bright red across the backs of his hands as he coughed and choked at the ground and I felt a gripping terror take hold of me. Was this what Ailech had sensed? Was James dying?

I felt a tidal wave of relief as I realized the blood was from his nose, the red streaking down to his chin, mixing with his spit and sweat, making the crimson run and look worse than it was. I couldn't do anything more than stand there, my suspicions confirmed, though I wished I had thought through my plan more before testing it.

"I-I'll go get Ailech."

I stammered as I tried to speak, cursing at myself silently. I had barely turned toward the door when I heard an angry growl come from James, which turned out to be a word.

"No!"

He repeated the word a little more coherently the second time.

"I'm fine, just leave."

I wanted to leave, I hated what I was seeing, but suddenly I couldn't move. It was like one of my nightmares, rooted in place, unable to run or fight or help and instead having to helplessly watch a horror show unfold before me. I wished I was dreaming, sleeping, that it wasn't real, that I would wake up in my room, screaming with Ailech shaking me. That I had fallen asleep without realizing it, and that my dreams had merely taken on the plans I had decided when I was awake.

I must have looked ridiculous standing there, staring at James like he was dying before me, eyes as big as the moon, but I couldn't help it. All the things I had thought were solid, constant, never able to change were crumbling. I wasn't who I had always thought I was, I wasn't even who I thought I had recently discovered I was. James wasn't who I had thought he was, the world wasn't what I had always believed it to be, and now even this new version of James was changing, shattering the little I thought I knew of him.

He was just a person, just a man. He wasn't invincible. He wasn't some new god or even a hero. But he wasn't a monster either. Monsters didn't lie on the floor shaking and choking from some unseen ailment, didn't go through the things he had, didn't suffer silently like he did. He was just a man. And looking at him crouched on the floor, one too-thin arm wrapped around his middle, the other holding him up shakily as he almost seized against whatever was attacking his body, he looked more like a boy than a man. More like a child, scared and hurt, but too proud to ask for the help he needed. He reminded me of the child I had seen in his memories, his past.

His face lifted slowly, his eyes barely visible from behind a curtain of soaked hair that wasn't even the color it was supposed to be. He hated his black hair, I knew that, everything that reminded him of his father. He wasn't supposed to look like him, but he had given up that fight too. Everything about the man in front of me broke my heart. Everything about it was wrong and not knowing how to help him made it that much worse. Still not being able to admit I wanted to help him was worst of all. Even from behind his dark hair I could see that his eyes matched, two black pools in a scared bone-white face, the stark contrast of fresh blood still nightmarishly dripping from his chin.

"Leave!"

He roared the word and my legs carried me to the hallway, the door closed behind me before I even realized I was moving. I crumpled against the wall across the hall, sitting with my knees pulled to my chest, hugging them into me, wishing I had never seen the things I had. Wishing I had slept instead, faced whatever dreams would have me. Anything was better than the horror I had just witnessed, and I couldn't even tell myself it wasn't real, reassure myself that James was still in there somewhere, strong and perfect and exactly how he should be. He was gone.

The thing in there wasn't him. The thing in there was what happened when someone lost everything, lost themselves and stopped trying, gave up. He had given up months ago, and this was what was left. I felt a sob pull at my throat, but I bit it back. I didn't want him to hear me.

Ten minutes later I heard the door open and looked up to see the same dead blue eyes that marked his shell was back. His empty gaze passed over me without emotion, without even acknowledging my presence. I watched him walk down the hall toward the connecting hallway that would bring him to his room. Every step he took dug into me a little deeper, each one marked another loss, another failure, another defeat. I buried my face in my knees until I heard the footsteps of too many people passing me. It was morning and even the more secluded of the hallways were becoming too busy.

I walked back to my room stonily, wishing I had never met James, wishing his Clan had never walked into my store.