Poison

Sol felt as if someone smashed her over the head with a brick. She stared up into those coal eyes, and the dream again flashed in her mind. A quiet chuckle at her, a demanding presence. Secrets and a stone—a gem. An important gem. He was real, here, now.

He was the key to everything, and she knew it. He could open those memories, set her free from this misery. She opened her mouth then shut it again.

A mysterious emotion boiled in his eyes, but just like that, it disappeared. Replaced by an icy stare that had her stopping herself from recoiling back from him. The short of his hair stood up at odd angles, as if he had rolled out of bed and shoved his fingers through the short pieces. The hallows of his cheeks seemed even more pronounced then in her dream, the muscles on his arms more defined. Even as he stared at her, she felt as if she knew him. Her hand twitched, and she repressed the urge to reach out and touch him.

To make sure he was real.

Her mouth opened and shut it once again, like a gaping fish. Snapping her teeth up, she said quickly, “Uh, hi.”

His eyes became mirrors, nothing to see. Without a word, he moved away, stepping away from her. Not once did he look back, as she stared after him with a sinking feeling. Perhaps she was delusional, perhaps she just didn't know him. No, that was wrong. She knew him, felt it in her heart. Her mind couldn't remember who he was, but her heart throbbed with the security he represented.

“Hey!” she said, standing up. “Wait.”

He paused, his feet stuck in one position. He glanced over his shoulder, staring at her. She felt the words clog in her throat, and she shook her head. Her lips settled down firmly on her face, and she took one faltering step forward. He turned slightly, gracing her with his actual attention.

“Just going to stand there and gap at me again?” he asked, no games, no pretense. Just words.

She narrowed her eyes, the book that had been in her lap now pressed against her stomach as she hugged herself. “I need—I can't—who am I? Do you know?”

She realized that those words didn't make any sense to even her own ears. All she knew was that words were out there, floating in front of them both. She wished she could take them back, be more coherent, sound less like a crazy person. Absentmindedly she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, pressing her lips together. She would take whatever he gave her as a response. She just had to know, know something. Who she was, who her family was, who she had been. The mistakes and horrors she had committed before. She had to know, this want that sweltered inside of her. This unconquerable desire to know, this curiosity that had her throwing caution the wind and demand answers from a man who deemed her an almost stranger.

Or, so it seemed.

He was silent for a moment, before saying softly, so softly she almost couldn't hear the words, “Do you?”

That response was similar to a physical blow, her eyes widening in pain and shock. He knew, he knew, he knew. He knew her. Where were the answers? The immediate recognition—something. She demanded it, now. What had happened to her? Why couldn't she remember her last name? Who was he to her?

And why the bloody hell wasn't he giving her these answers?

Those words were on the tip of her tongue, laced in poison and self-righteousness when he turned away from her again. Continuing to the back of the store. Each step he took away from her made her rage spill up and over.

“Give me answers!” she demanded, dropping the book softly on the bean-bag she had situated herself upon. She took a step forward, because he hadn't turned around again. She started to job forward, catching up with his slowly measured steps. “Hey—you!”

He spun around just as she came up on him, catching her off guard as he rounded on her. He stepped forward, backing her into one of the shelves, her back bumping into a large bag of powder. He stared down at her, standing a good half a foot above her. His eyes peered down into hers, piercing her with their intensity. Ripping down on her soul with nails made of secrets.

“If you can't look in the mirror and recognize yourself, how can you expect to recognize someone else? I don't know you.” His words were soft, but not gentle. They were rigid with a harsh tone that cut her. “I don't know you.”

Those words hit her heart with each vicious blow, yet she couldn't believe them. Her eyes peered up at him and she knew immediately the truth, and her eyes hardened. “Liar.”

Shock dawned on his face, completely paralyzed with those words. His eyes open and wide, and she saw herself in those eyes. He narrowed his eyes, regaining his composure. He leaned closer to her, placing his lips near to her ear.

She couldn't breath. He was too close.

“Don't talk to me.”

He took a step back, leaving her plastered there against the shelves, placing his hands on his hips. Her eyes caught on the tattoo on his hand, and he jerked his hands back down when he noticed her attention. Her heart pounded in her chest, a loud drum that rattled and screamed. This stranger, this friend, this fiend, this man made her stomach heave and her heart tighten. She knew him, yet she couldn't reach him.

She watched him as he walked away. Just let him walk away, with all those desires that coiled in her. The first chance at regaining everything, and she watched it walk away from her. She let him, those bitter words in her mouth. She pushed away from the shelf, throwing her chin out. She stood there, chin up, pride shredded, deflated, yet she watched him with shoulders pulled back and her self-respect tightly around her like a shawl. He didn't glance back once, just walked towards the back door. He opened it, pausing briefly at the door.

She couldn't help herself, that last word out of her mouth, “Coward.”

He disappeared through the door.


Fraser leaned back against the door. All he could hear were her words.

“Give me answers.”

“Who am I?”

“Liar.”

“Coward!”

She was still there. In the same body, the same mind lingered. Those last words reminded him so much of her before the accident. Yet, what he said was the truth. He didn't know who she was now. She could be a totally different person. Perhaps she can find peace as who she is now, instead of her unsettled personality before.

Still, seeing her here was a sucker-punch to the gut. He'd wait till she left, which he knew she would. Even in this state of mind, she wouldn't just wait around. She'd give him the middle finger salute only to return later after cooling off.

He just had to be gone by then.


“Sol?”

Sol glanced up, startled to see that Jazz had returned from the back rooms where he had been getting a few supplies that weren't on the shelves. His eyes were wide on her, searching her face, staring at the door that fell shut with a click. The owner of the shop glanced at her and at the door, confusion littering his face.

“Who was it?” asked the owner.

“A stranger,” she said coldly before turning to Jazz. “Where is the supplies? I'll help you bring them out.”

Jazz stared at her silently as she moved past him, not waiting for an answer before taking the heavy sack out of his arms. He watched her heft it over her shoulder and moving towards the door. Stopping briefly, she picked up the book, staring at the cover. She turned quickly back towards the owner.

“How much is this book?”

The owner stared into those green eyes, seeing pain and irritation. “It's all yours.”

She gave him a forced smile. “Thank you.”

The front door closed behind her, and Jazz whistled, “Sh-iiiit.”


“What is that on your hand?” Sol demanded, sprawled across a couch. Her hair fell down around her shoulders, pouring over her.

“A tattoo,” he responded, wiping off one of his guns, his black eyes not even flickering her way.

She rolled her eyes skyward. “Thank you. What does it stand for?”

“Infinity.”

Silence. Then:

“You're so great at elaborating.”

He lifted his eyebrows in slight amusement at her dry tone. “Stop whining.”

“Fine,” she said, sitting up, and throwing her legs over his lap, gaining herself an annoyed glance. “Why did you get it? Why there? I've seen it on other protectors too, so explain.”

He smiled despite her real irritation with him. “Calm yourself, Sol. Yes, it is a symbol common throughout the protectors. As you've probably noticed, not all protectors wear their symbols as open as I do. Kida has hers on the inside of her wrist. Jack's is on his shoulder-blade.”

Nodding her head, Sol said, “I saw Kida's. But she had a different design. She just had the same basic shape, but it broke on the left side, into three dots before continuing in the line again.”

“Each clan of protectors have different symbols. My family's symbol is the dragon. Kida's family is much simpler, less dynamic. Much like Kida herself.”

“How many clans are there?”

“Eleven.”

“Each clan has a different symbol?”

“Yes.”

There was a brief silence before she said, “I like yours.”

He glanced over at her, leaning to brush a red strand from her face. “You should be training.” He wasn't saying something. “Go on, Jack wants you to become more familiar with blades.”

Groaning, she heaved herself off of the couch. She paused briefly before him, only to lean down, staring him straight in the face. Her hair fell around her face, in a fiery red cascade, her green eyes daring him. All he did was stare at her.

“Coward,” she whispered before straightening and disappearing out of the room.


Sol scowled, crawling out of bed, to stand on her feet. The moon was still bright in the sky, which she noticed when she shoved her window open wide. Looking across the sky, this was the only time during any part of the day where any part of the actual sky could be seen. Even the dust and cold of the night couldn't hide the stars that pierced through those layers of dirt that clouded the midday sky. Yet, at this time of night, most of the dust settled firmly on the ground. In a couple hours the wind would whip it all up again.

She wanted answers. She couldn't wait any longer, couldn't hold a grudge any longer. She didn't know what she had done to him to make him so calloused towards her—at some time they had been close. So close. He would have those answers for her. She wouldn't leave him alone until she got what she desired.

Decision made she couldn't wait any longer, or else he might be gone. He might be gone already, but she would follow him. She needed answers, because she certainly wasn't going to get them back herself. Tugging her hair back, she wrapped a bandana to hold the strands back. Yanking on some jeans and a plain tee on, she snatched up a bit of liner on a second thought. Lining the inside of her lids with the dark liner, she grasped a quick bag filled with important stuff. She would be back by morning hopefully—but if something happened, she was going prepared.

Sliding down the stairs, she stepped into the kitchen. She cringed each time a step made a sound knowing that she's a dead woman walking if Rose found out she was going. Rose believe strongly in the buddy system. She scribbled a quick note and tossed it on the counter. Opening the door, she let it close behind her softly. Walking to the two seated vehicle, she knew there was no way she could take that here. It was too loud.

She eyed Oz's treasure, the quiet one-seated two wheeled cycle that was much quieter, lighter, and faster. They'd all been taught how to ride it, and she knew immediately that this was her best bet. She started walking, rolling the vehicle away from the house. When she got about a half a mile away, she swung her leg over the bike, and typed in the ten-digit code that allowed the engine to purr to life.

She'd just need to be back by morning.