Poison

“By God!” Sol cussed, throwing her arms up in a futile attempt to avoid the freezing spray of water that cascaded upon her nearly naked body. “Damn it, Fraser, could you warn me?”

He stripped off his own shirt, and pulling off his jeans. He lifted them and piled them on top of Sol's clothes, and turned to her in his boxer shorts. She stood in her bra and underwear, mortified and freezing under the water. He stepped in beside her, pushing her slightly out of the way. He dunked his head under the spray, shaking his head free.

“If we don't get this smell off of us, it will take us forever to get our senses about us again,” Fraser said, dumping a handful of soap into his hand.

“I can shower by myself,” Sol snarled, snatching the soap away from him. “This is unnecessary and cruel.”

He stared at her, dead serious as he said, “Better start washing yourself, before I feel obliged to help you with that. Anyway, I can't trust you alone. You've always attracted trouble. Not to mention that there is only so much hot water.”

“This is hot?!” Sol demanded, her teeth chattering.

“Yes.” His tone softened as his eyes trailed down her stomach. “I almost forgot about those,” he said, motioning towards the scars that marred her skin. “It always amazed me how they'd managed to heal.”

“Almost normal,” Sol said, turning away. However, that wouldn't free her from his sight of her scars. The scars also wrapped up her back. Like the stripes on a tiger, they were slightly paler than her regular skin. Other than the change in skin color, one wouldn't have known about the scars. “I don't even remember how I got them.”

He didn't seem like he was going to answer her silent question, but her slumped shoulders made pity swarm in him. “When you were seven, the house you were living in caught fire. You got caught underneath several flaming supports, trapping you around your waist. Luckily your father noticed in time to pull you free. Fast enough to free you from death, but not from the places where the flames had burned through your clothes.”

He leaned forward went to touch her shoulder, but he restrained. “Sol, I didn't want to tell you for a reason. You have to understand that.”

“What reason?” she asked quietly. When he didn't respond, she stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and dabbing at her body. “Well, when you're ready to tell me the truth—and all of it—then I can figure out what I want to do with my life.”

She stormed out with the skimpy towel wrapped around her, her wet feet leaving trails of dripping water behind her. Her hair darkened as it fell across her back, sopping wet. Fraser scowled after her, and dunked his head underneath the cold water once again.


No natural light sank into the caves of the rebels. However, this wasn't a cave, and the sunlight of that fierce sun sank in through the cracks of the house. The red-headed woman stood, the window open, however, the dust didn't intrude on the home. In this part of Zaire, the dust settled itself. Windor was the only place of beauty left on this miserable island. A great many people avoided it, however, because it housed the place of the rebels. The lair linked to this great forest, and the beasts that often roamed it would kill any unprepared traveler. Not to mention the rebels didn't take kindly to trespassers.

Her eyes stared out, staring at the trees that were so thick and condensed it was a miracle there was ever a path sown through them. Yet, there was. A path that lead to this very house, a house with a tunnel that dug into the ground, leading to the great caves.

“Ophela.”

The red-headed woman turned, her blue and green eyes showing quiet surprise at the man before her. “Oh, Jeremy, how nice to see you. Rumor has it you have a new name.”

“A name I'm not too fond of.”

“Well, we all gain our little nicknames.” She waved her hands as if to dismiss the small talk. “Anyway, what have you got for me?”

“I think the question is, Ophela,” he said, his oily smile coating his face, “is what you have for me.”

Jeremy was a weak man. Not in stature, as could be noticed from his muscular form. He towered above Ophela, standing over six and a half feet tall. His shoulders were wide and his body built of muscle. He wasn't the usual type to rat out his own friends, but that is why they didn't suspect him. He was surprising stealthy for such a large man, sneaking into a room without giving a hint of his entrance. No, he was not weak in body. He was weak in his mind. You could sense it in his greedy little brown eyes, like little pin-points they tracked down money and weakness in people the way a hungry hound does its prey. However, this hound could often be bought, with a few coins. His dirty blond hair fell across his forehead, and he brushed it back thoughtlessly.

Ophela's eyes narrowed. “I paid you well last time, I think well enough for more information.”

“The girl you seek is hard to pin down,” Jeremy said. “Difficult enough for me to need money to gain some more resources. I have found out some information, but without more money, I will be unable to keep searching so fervently for her.”

She bared her teeth but conceded as she moved away from the man. Stopping before a chest, she opened it, leaning down to pull free a sack of gold. Weighing it in her hand carefully, she moved back towards Jeremy. She held it up, and Jeremy leaned forward to grasp it. She snatched it back, away from his hands.

“First, you will tell me what you know,” she said. “Then you will get the gold you need to track down the girl. Understood?”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes but brushed it off. “Fine,” he said. He paced away a bit before returning to her. “Sol had been staying for the past few months with a group of refugees. There were five of them, not including the girl.”

“I'm guessing they are with Sol now?”

“Two of them are, from what I could tell. The other three, including an old man, a child, and a mother, have stayed at a sanctuary for the past couple days since they took off from their home.”

Ophela stared at him. “So, what do you propose we do?”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “we capture them, of course.”


They all circled around the room: Raven, Kida, Sol, Fraser, and Jazz. Jazz had been retrieved soon after their escape, joining their little group of misfits. Fraser had been staking out in a house down the street a bit, paying for it day by day to an old man that owned half the street. It was a shit-house, squatting low to the ground, with four rooms. One of those rooms was a bathroom, another a kitchen. There was only one bedroom. However, an attic upstairs allowed plenty of room for the rest of them. Raven, Sol, and Fraser showered, to rid themselves of the horrible smelling gas that clung to their skin and clothes. Now, dressed in warm, different clothes, they didn't bother to discuss any plans, far too exhausted to do anything. Raven retired for the night first, bitching about her headache, Jazz soon after to take care of Raven.

Sol stood up after they'd disappeared up the steps to the attic, walking out the back door to stand on the porch that was nailed together precariously. She leaned against the support pole, crossing her arms, and closing her eyes. The cold sank into her skin, the moon spilling across her skin and hair. The backyard was slight, about two yards back. Weeds grew up to the brick walls that surrounded the little backyard.

She found him. Now, she just had to wean answers from him.

“Sol?”

Sol turned slightly, surprised by the voice. Kida stepped forward, her blond hair turned silver in the moonlight. She came up to stand beside Sol, folding her arms across her chest. Kida looked exhausted, but Sol held her tongue. She knew that she had known Kida at some point in her life, recognized her with that eerie familiarity, but she couldn't recall any real memories. Yet, she recalled a fierce protectiveness over the younger girl.

“I knew you, didn't I?” Sol asked softly.

Kida's face was drawn. “Yeah.”

“We were close.”

Again, “Yeah.”

Sol touched her shoulder, forcing Kida to look up at her. “Just because I don't recall a memory doesn't mean I don't remember you or that you didn't matter.”

Kida smiled sadly. “I didn't even know for sure if you were alive. None of us did. Fraser refused to tell us anything. He kept insisting that you were okay, but we didn't know for sure. He closed himself off to us, isolating himself.”

“Why?”

“Because of you,” Kida said. “Because he lost a part of you when you lost your memory.”

Sol's eyes fell. “What do you mean, he lost of a part of me?”

Kida let her crossed arms fall, tilting her head up, looking at the sky. “What I mean is, he lost you the day you became a Protector. Because that was the day that he broke his promise to you. The day he found you on the floor of the rebels lair, and saved you. But when you woke up, Sol, you didn't remember him. He lost you. He lost the love you had for him.”


Fraser slipped out the back door, swinging over the brick wall. Hours before, all of them had fallen asleep, and now, he had to leave. He left no note, no apology. Maybe it was futile, for Sol would just follow him. She would try, but Kida could protect her. Kida will be able to fill in the void that Sol seemed so determined for him to fill. The god-forsaken Gem. The Gem of Hearts, Gem of souls. And he was its keeper, a man who forced himself to fill the role of a Guardian when he himself was not the Guardian. This situation was far too precarious, far too dangerous to leave it up to fate. He had to find the stone and return it to its rightful place.

The moon sank over his shadowed form. Strapped to his back was a bag of food and tools, and in his hand there was a crumpled piece of paper. He crossed the little alleyway and opened the door slowly to the garage where they had hidden the bikes. The paper held the numbers that he would use to start the bike and escape from here. It was close to Windor here, and he could be back perhaps before anyone noticed.

“It's not there.”

Fraser swung around, yanking his gun free from his belt. He held it up, not dropping his arm as he stared at the man that spoke. Jakob held his hands up in mock surrender, tilting his head to the side. Fraser's jaw tightened at the sight of him, and an image flashed, of a time when they were friends.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Fraser said, tucking his gun back into his belt. “But you can't stop me from leaving.”

“The Gem isn't there. The Gem hasn't been there for four months.” Jakob moved forward, letting the moonlight drift over him. “Its disappeared, Fraser. We searched every nook and cranny of that god-forsaken cave—trust me, I was one of them.”

Fraser stared at him, trying to get a read. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you need to stay with Sol, and protect her. She won't let me near her.”

“Why?”

“I've made my own mistakes, and personally I'm still a little miffed at her for trying to kill me.”

“She didn't, she tranquilized you. She would have never hurt you. She made me swear that I wouldn't touch you, and I'll keep to that promise.” Fraser's eyes held hatred, deep and sparking. “Even if she doesn't remember it.”

Jakob stared him down. “What happened to her?”

“She touched the Gem.”

“I get that,” he said, waving away his response, “but what I don't understand is why she forgot. You didn't, and as far as I know, no one else has too.”

“That's not true, Jakob. Think back, and think very carefully.” Fraser stared at Jakob. “You know, I didn't want her to do it. It was her choice, and I couldn't have stopped her.”

Jakob's eyes hardened, and he knew they were no longer talking about Sol. “Angelina died because she wanted to become like you Fraser. She wanted the power of the stone. It killed her. She was murdered by her own ideals. However, your consent was just as deadly as the Gem itself.” Jakob bared his teeth. “Put the stone where no harmless, foolish, innocent child can touch it, Fraser. Make up the death of your little sister.”

With those last words, Jakob turned around and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.