âYou miss this,â said with a grin, because Markus was good-natured even when he was slowly suffocating and having to focus on the steady inhalation and exhalation of breath. There was something meditative in illness, in injury; he had to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Hold for four and then exhaled as long as he can without having a coughing fit. Counting moments, counting breaths.
That was the part that hurt. Not the stab in his chest or the steady feeling of unwellness, it was the longing for the company of others who knew him. Who knew him. Everyone he grew to care about in Talon were people who wanted out, who didnât want this anymore. Who never wanted this, who wanted something for the first time in their goddamned lives and someone offered it to them. He was tired. God, he was so tired. Â He couldnât let this be too much but when his chest hurt so bad and he was looking at his friend, when he was sitting next to some kid with a body count higher than a career soldier who looked like she might start crying at the prospect of her friend dying-
Something small and quiet and trying very, very hard not to but she was so fucking scared and she didnât want to lose her friend. She had to trust someone she barely knew when the whole damn world had shown Rini that somebody always wanted something.
Except Simon didnât want anything.
No, Iâm not going anywhere.
Markus was breathing and he was going to be okay. She knew he had to be okay and even if that man was a stranger, she knew that he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. That white-knuckled grip on her bat hadnât gone away butâŠ
âMarkus gets shot a lot,â an absent statement, but one born of absolute knowing. She knew heâd taken a few bullets, but nothing had ever been that bad, âwhat was it? Modified pulse rifle? Those are pretty nasty.â
Said with entirely too much knowing and entirely too much experience.
â⊠heâll be okay though, right? Youâre a for real doctor?â
Simon didnât want anything.
Except, of course, for her to get some towels.
The smaller bottle blonde nodded and skittered off the bed and away to the bathroom, only to find that she had already used all of the towels previously for whatever it was that people needed towels for. That awkward scramble followed by the kid pointing at the door and heading that way. She lingered there for a second, eying the aluminum bat for a second before⊠leaving it. Rini dumped the contents of her backpack before taking it with her and leaving.
She left. The air was still, save for Markusâs breathing. After a moment, he looked at Simon again.
âSorry. Sheâs⊠uh⊠a work in progress. You get it.â
One of the greatest things Markus believed, one of the things that kept him going and kept him fighting, and all sorts of beautiful things was this: people could change. Things could change. One person could make all the difference but adding those small changes together moved mountains. Toppled empires. Brought real, honest-to-fucking-god change.
âYou know, itâs kind of funny, you get attached to people. You find people who⊠make sense. And you care about them,â Markus paused, then after a slow, desperate breath, âand then, for me⊠I find a way to let them go. Because every good person I meet now has no business meeting me.â
He gestured at the closed door.
âI donât think Rini will make it long enough for me to tell her goodbye.â
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