Wrong Side of Heaven, Righteous Side of Hell

Thunder rattled the empty picture frames on the walls as lightning flashed in the windows, illuminating the room like the sun for a breath. A faint dripping sounded from somewhere deeper in the apartment. In fact, it was the only noise other than the harsh, frightened sounds of the eight year old boy hiding under the bed.

The boy shivered so hard his teeth chattered under the three scratchy blankets he had rummaged from the Thief’s house. His bones hurt and his eyes were peeled wide at the onslaught outside.

The City was located near the ocean which was great if you were a merchant, as trade is always hustling on the water. The downside? The ocean brought with it storms, heavy and unrenting and almost daily.

Another slash of lightning and explosion of thunder crackled through the air, causing the boy to burrow into his makeshift hiding place. A whimper escaped his lips and he curled into a tight ball, clapping his hands over his ears and screwing his eyes shut. His breath was hot on his panicked skin and he was sure his heart was attempting to make a break from his chest at any moment.

He had no idea how long he stayed that way, huddled into his knees, praying to gods he didn’t believe existed for the storm to pass.

One of his blankets slid off his body slowly but the boy was too preoccupied to notice or care. When the second one was yanked away in a hard rush, the boy fisted the last one closer to him.
“Kid? You alive under there?”

His eyes flew open and his heart stopped in his chest. “Senior!” he scrambled out from under the bed frame and damn near tackled the man. Winding his arms around the man’s stomach and holding on for dear life.

“Oof… Kid, watch the gut.”

“Senior, don't ever leave me!’ he sobbed as he buried his young face in Senior’s abdomen.

Gentle hands soothed the boy’s black hair back, “Shhh… it’s okay kid. I’m here. Your safe. I promise.”

“Y-you le-ft me!”

The man’s voice was low and sincere as his fingers drifted through the boy’s downy hair. “Hey, hey. It’s all right now. From now on I won't leave you anymore.”

“Promise!” the boy demanded, his heart thundering in his ears.

The man let out a small chuckle and gathered the boy up in his arms. “I promise. But you have to promise to keep up. Can you do that for me?” he set the boy on the bed and crouched in front of the boy’s boney knees. “Do you think you can learn to do what I do?”

The kid bobbed his head and wiped his red nose on his sleeve, “uh-huh… I’ll work really hard. I’ll be very quiet. Please, please don't leave me again.” he fisted the man’s sleeves as fat tears trailed down his round cheeks and soaked his shirt collar.

Senior smiled, but his eyes were sad. “Okay kid.” he peeled the boy’s tiny hands from his arms and joined him on the bed while the storm growled outside. The boy nuzzled into the man’s chest as a blanket was draped around them. With time, the boy’s sobs dissolved to hiccups, his hiccups to shutters and in that time Senior soothed his hair and back silently.

“Tomorrow.” he finally said in the dark. “I’ll start training you tomorrow, son.”

The boy’s shoulders stiffened and he lifted his bloodshot eyes to the man, “Son?” he croaked.

The man smiled and ran a hand over the boy’s damp cheek, “Is that okay?”

He’d never expected this. Never having anyone to care for him, or about him, he’d given up thinking anyone would ever want him. But he had always wanted this. He’d always wanted a father. He’d always wanted to be someone’s son. Someone who mattered to somebody else.

Being sheltered in the man’s arms he resolved that he didn’t want to be just anyone’s son. He wanted to be this man’s son.

For all he cared, the rest of the world could burn.

The boy, not knowing what else to do, nodded.

The man kissed the top of the boy’s head and pulled him closer to his chest, “all right. From now on then, you’re my son. I promise I’ll protect you. You’re safe with me. Always.”

The boy clenched the front of the man’s tunic as his tears returned out of relief this time, as he had completely forgotten about the storm.

“Sleep well… son.”

Garrett’s eyes fluttered open as the warmth of Senior’s arms faded, his free hand gripping blindly at the man that had recently, only lived in his dreams. His vision was on its way back to normal, the colors, that is. But tears were soaking the pillow underneath him and the rest of his vision was taking its sweet time adjusting.

His chest ached and, no, it had nothing to do with the broken ribs, or slashes, or bruises marring his flesh. No, the ach was one of barely suppressed longing for a parent he had buried long ago. Of the years that truly had been robbed of them. And of the heirloom that was reduced to ashes now.

He scrubbed his face with his free hand, the other one having been tied to the opposite shoulder with gauze, and rested his forearm over his eyes when the tears refused to stop. Shame tore through him as he heard the door open and shut quietly.

“Are you in pain?”

Hell yes, “‘S’not so bad.” His voice cracked and he kicked himself mentally for being so weak. He hated people seeing him this way. He was too raw to put up any real pretence.

“So…” he croaked and then cleared his throat, “will I live, Doc?” He kept his arm over his face, not trusting his eyes to dry up.

She made a quiet, amused hum in the back of her throat and he flinched when her fingers ran through his blood matted hair. “You will recover. Though, whether or not you shall survive, that is up to Daud.”

Garrett chuckled bitterly. “A lot of things are up to Daud.”

“He is the leader here, after all.” she pointed out, her footfalls retreating over to the table and glasses began clacking together.

“Sure. Gods are silent, sheep need to follow someone with a firm voice.”

She knocked something over on the table, but it sounded like she quickly righted it. “The implication being that he is a God?”

“You people certainly seem to think so.”

She was quiet for a long moment, as if she was considering what he said. A rumble of thunder had his ears piquing, no wonder he had dreamed of that night… and of Senior. Another pang of sadness coursed through his veins. By the gods… he missed Senior. More than he felt he should at this point in his life.

“Perhaps you are right.” Doc admitted at last. “Our lives are in his hands. Though perhaps ‘God’ is too grandeur of a title.” her steps sounded over to the side of his bed.

“I would say… ‘Harold’ might fit him better.”

“And just which god is he speaking for then?”

Her hand gently tapped his forearm and he stiffened, not ready to drop the arm. “I must check your eyes.”

Please gods, no… “...They hurt...”

“I would imagine so. There was so much blood though I could not tell if you were bleeding from your eye or if it was simply spillover from the gash on your forehead. Now that the wound on your head has been taken care of, I should like to make sure your eye is all right.”

He hesitated, if that was the case, the tears could be explained away. He slowly dragged his arm down and fluttered his eyes open, wincing at the light from the exposed bulb in the corner of the room. Her scarred face was blurry but the tender expression still shined through.

“Sorry but I need the light to examine you.”

“No worries.” he grunted as he pushed himself up on the headboard a little.

Her hand ghosted over his cheek and she leaned in to better see the damage. To distract himself from having someone in his face he choked, “you never answered me.”

“About what?” she asked after nodding and straightening.

“What God do you imagine Daud worships?”

She scoffed. “Well that really is a different question, is it not, young thief?” She glided over to the table and pulled a syringe out and began cleaning it.

“Is it really?”

She speared a vial filled with blue liquid and pulled the plunger to fill the syringe. “Blue first.” she breathed to herself, while gathering a strip of leather and a silver bowl filled with what looked like a rag submerged in water.

Garrett’s stomach did a flip.

“What is that?” he asked, pushing himself back into the headboard as she padded back over holding up the concoction.

She dropped her arm with the syringe like that was supposed to make him feel better about it. “Daud said he wants you to have this, along with the red. He stole them, if you must know.”

“Uh-huh, and what is it?”

She glanced down at the blue potion. “This one is Piero’s Spiritual Remedy, and the red is Sokolov’s Elixir.”

That jacked his heart rate up higher. “The hell do I need a spiritual remedy for? Tell Daud to kiss my ass. I’m not taking some bullshit cure-all from a quack physician.”

She rolled her eyes and dropped, unceremoniously on the corner of the bed. “By the gods you can be exhausting, you know that?”

“It’s my mission in life.” he narrowed his eyes at her and she scoffed.

“Why do you insist on acting as though you have a choice?”

Garrett blinked, all anger evaporating from him. She was right. He didn’t really have a choice, did he? Daud had made that perfectly clear. Daud says ‘jump’ he doesn’t want to hear ‘how high?’

He wants Garrett to jump.

Garrett settled back into the bed as the revelation dawned on him. Fighting this head-on would not get him out of the situation at hand. He needed to outsmart the man to win his freedom, but that would take patience... Planning. He’d need to survive to be able to get free. And to survive, he’d need to conform.

And -he couldn’t fight his grimace- obey.

He sighed heavily and held out his free arm to her. It took all the effort in the world to unfold his arm and expose that vein to her, but he did it. Even though his arm shook. It was offered to her.

She nodded and quickly set the bowl on the dingy bedside table. She then wrapped the strip of leather, which he then realized was a belt, around his upper arm. He broke into a cold sweat as the leather tightened on his arm, thankfully she didn’t seem to notice. He swore he could see his vein throbbing though he knew for a fact it was all in his head. She used the rag to clean his arm of any remaining dust he’d accrued in that fight.

He knew she could see the fine tremors racing up and down his arm, how could she not? But if she did she ignored them completely.

She lifted the syringe needle in the air and pushed the plunger the barest bit, until a small stream lept free. She then cradled his elbow and placed the needle head on skin over the bright blue vein. “This should not hurt overmuch. And I shall be as quick as the serum allows.”

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “Yeah sure… fine.”

She was indeed fast. And efficient. It felt like an eternity that that needle was pumping that god-awful shit into his arm but he knew better. And when his breath hitched, the doc laced her fingers into his. She didn’t acknowledge the fact that she did it. Didn’t bite or goad him, she just offered a small, secret comfort and allowed him his pride.

The second injection hurt worse than the first but not by much, though he was using every fiber of his being not to fight her. His fingernails bit into the back of her hand, and her skin went white with the force of his grip but he couldn’t unlatch his fingers even though he knew he was hurting her. She took it in stride, not even her expression changed.

“There we are.” she said after a moment, extracting the needle. “You may want to lay back, most say they get a head rush the first time they try one of these, let alone both of them. They can be potent and I would prefer not to take chances if I can help it.”

“Yeah…” he nodded as he sunk into the bed and she wrapped his injection sights up. She settled the crocheted blanket over his still bare chest and that was when the room started to float around his ears.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like he was on that damn boat again. “Damn me….”

She snorted and he felt the bedsprings unfurl as she stood. “Well, I did warn you.”

“...no you didn’t…” he protested as he curled on his side. “You said ‘head rush’, this is some sick punishment Daud handed out.”

She sighed and shook her head. “You are a wonder, young thief,” she mused in that proper way of hers.

“Garrett, Doc. My name is Garrett.” He mumbled, resting his hand over his eyes and dropping a leg off the bed to try to convince his brain that the waves hitting the body of the ship were all in his head.

“All right then, Garrett. Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps something to help you sleep?”

He groaned and shook his head slightly, “You were born a noble... Weren’t you... Doc?”

She was quiet for so long he had to remove his hand and crack a lid to see if she was still there. She was staring at the wall, her scar completely hidden due to the angle she stood. Looking every bit the proper noblewoman he’d assumed her to be. “Am I so transparent, young thief?”

He’d struck a nerve. Unburied something ugly and was unsurprised he’d hurt her with his question. He’d always read people pretty well and he tended to ask questions to validate himself. But more often than not, he’d pick at a wound he didn’t know was there. And that was why he faired better on his own. People didn’t like a person who never knew when it was inappropriate to pry.

He made a noise that was a ‘no’ and covered his eyes again, “You talk like ‘um, is all. And you’re graceful. Those are two things lower class folks don’t really care about.”

“Do you spend much time in the company of nobility?” she asked quietly.

“Only when I am robbing them. But you pick up things, after a while of watching.”

She hummed, “I was the daughter of a duke.” she confirmed finally. “And he had me married off in an effort inflate the family’s meager fortune. My father was a betting man, so he had squandered most of our coin on gambling. When my husband learned of this, of course, my father’s greed was taken out on my flesh. Until the night Thomas was assigned to assassinate my husband in accordance with someone’s power play. He once told me he was assigned to simply poison my husband, however, when my husband burned me… I remember waking up on the floor, in a great deal of pain and laying in no small amount of blood.

“My husband was on the ground beside me, staring at me with no life in his eyes and his throat opened from one end of his jaw to the other….” she was quiet again for a long moment. She drew in a shaky breath and laughed bitterly.

“I was elated. My husband who hurt me over and over was finally powerless. And though I was… disfigured… I had outlived him. I do not remember Thomas bringing me here but I do remember Daud having me treated and when I was strong enough, he gave me leave to do whatever I wished here. I wanted to be of use so I learned from the old doctor here as much as I could. When he passed away, Daud fetched me books and scrolls and herbs. After every mission, he ensured I had what I needed take care of him and his men.

“So you see, young thief, to my biased eyes, he is not a cruel or vicious man.” The bed on his right side dipped slightly as she settled her weight on it. “But rather my savior and friend. A man who opened his home for me when he had little use for a spoiled, noble child.”

Garrett kept his eyes shut but lifted his hand from his eyes and patted her shoulder twice, in reassurance that he’d been listening. Since he didn’t know what to say to give any real comfort he stayed silent.

“Do you wish to sleep?” she asked in the tense quiet.

“I’m sorry.” he offered.

The bed lifted and another blanket was rested over his prone body. “As I have indicated before, I am not. Do not pity me, Garrett. A young, useless and depressed girl died that day. She was replaced as someone who matters. Sleep well.”

As the door clicked shut he shook his head and let out a small sigh. He was tired, he thought as his head plunged under the waters of his mind.