It was bright… too bright. 

I had barely cracked my eyes open before I had to squeeze them shut again. I could hear an intermittent beeping, at least that sounded familiar. I was used to the beeps and whirrs of the various machines I’d been connected to.  Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe I was still right where I had been for weeks on end. Maybe Avi was still alive.

I tried to open my eyes again, and this time managed to get them fully open. 

I felt the familiar sluggishness of coming out of sedation. I tried to focus on the room. I didn’t recognize it. 

I looked to my right to see a familiar figure sitting on the edge of the chair next to me, my hand sandwiched between both of his. His eyes were focused on the hand he held, his body hunched forward. He was whispering something, but I couldn’t hear it. 

He looked tired, fatigued. His hair was shorter now. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it.  I could see tear tracks on his cheeks. He was covered in dirt and … blood. My pulse quickened as the worry started to sink in. 

I tried to lift my hand from his, but it didn’t want to obey me at first and all I managed was a few twitches of my fingers. He stared at it momentarily before his eyes met mine. The hard edge to his face softened with relief and his eyes began to sparkle with tears as he stood and ran his fingers over my cheek.  It reminded me of Avi. 

The memory hit me like a battering ram. I had to look away from him for a moment, but it was strange…  as I looked back at him he seemed like a different person. He wasn’t the same man who had pulled the trigger. He wasn’t that monster…  this was my sweet, loving high school sweetheart, and he was drenched in blood. 

Both of my hands moved to his shirt, tugging on it weakly, trying to find whatever wound he had. “You’re hurt…” I whispered out. “Where… what..”

He shook his head no, taking my hands in his and kissing each one. “Babe, no. I’m fine… i’m okay.  It’s not mine.”  He ran his hand over my head, smoothing the now way too long hair away from my face. “It’s yours.” 

I watched the tears fall, his lip tremble as he took my face in his hands. “I thought I’d lost you.” 

I was confused, but the haziness was starting to wear off. “What happened?” 

“I sat you down for just… just a moment. There were too many of them. I thought I’d …” he pressed his lips together, apparently angry at something… them? me? himself?

“I didn’t see him until it was too late. He got off two shots before I could…” He trailed off, finding my hands again.  

Before he could …  

Fill in the blank.  Shoot him? Kill him? 

My Mitch was a murderer. I guess I should have realized that before. He’d killed people in his attempt to escape the first time. It hadn’t seemed this intimate before. It made my stomach turn over. 

“I’m so sorry, Scott. It was my fault. It’s all my fault.” 

I tried to sit up, wanting to pull him closer, but a jolt of excruciating pain caused my vision to white out. I let out an involuntary cry. 

So yeah, that blood all over him..  was definitely mine.  Let me tell you, being shot hurts like a bitch. 

He pushed me back down against the pillow. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” He hurried out of the room only to return moments later with a man I didn’t recognize. He asked me some questions, took my vitals.  This was starting to become my life… the beeping, the needles and strange hands… and the pain.  There was always pain. 

The man pulled Mitch aside to talk as if I wasn’t even there. I didn’t even care to try & listen. 

I was too busy watching Mitch’s face. His features were pulled tight again, his body tense and alert. He listened intently to whatever the man was saying and I could see him asking questions, but couldn’t read his lips to figure out what they were. I watched him nod, the worry evident on his face. He took a deep breath and ran both of his hands over his face before giving a final nod. They both turned back to me.

“You need rest.” The man didn’t even look at my face before injecting something into the iv needle already in my arm.

I kind of huffed a bit. I’d been laying down for weeks. The last thing I wanted to do was keep laying there. I was again brought back to a memory of Avi. ‘You’re weak, Scott. You need to rest.’

Mitch held my hand again once the doctor moved away from me. I wanted to kiss him, to hold him, but I could already feel my eyelids beginning to droop. 

“You’re gonna be fine. Just sleep, ok?” He sat down in the chair again, intermittently kissing my hand. He wasn’t even looking at me. He kept saying it, "you're gonna be fine," almost like he was convincing himself instead of comforting me.

I tried to tell him I loved him, but my whisper was too quiet for anyone to hear as sleep claimed me again.

~ 

I swear his blood was like some sort of cure all. I don’t know what he had inside of him, what they did to his genes or whatever scientific mumbo jumbo, but it was certainly effective.  I must have had enough of it still in me to matter, because I was up on my feet in less than 5 days. I have a feeling it saved my life. 

Just one more thing I owed to Avi, and I guess also to Mitch.

Things were strained between us for those first few days. He stayed pretty quiet, the conversation stayed on trivial things, the weather, how I was currently feeling, tv shows… 

I finally learned I wasn’t at a regular hospital. These were friends of Arya. 

Mitch disappeared a lot. He was gone for hours at a time leaving me to my thoughts. Even when he was there things were distant. 

I began to feel stifled. I’d been locked up for way too long and I needed out. There were a lot of things that needed out. 

The morning of the 5th day is when I lost it. 

Funny how I seem to always react in the most inappropriate ways. He risked his life to save mine and there I was screaming at him, arms flailing about, pacing the floor like a caged animal on weak, shaky legs. I was getting angrier and angrier. 

You’d think it would be a happy reunion, that I would be grateful to be free. 

You’d think I’d be concerned about his health, or that I’d even think twice to ask him if he was ok, if his headaches were gone. 

He kept trying to hold me, to calm me. He kept telling me I needed to sit down.

But, no.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN HESITATE!” 

“I didn’t have a choice ” he didn’t raise his voice or his eyes. 

“IT WAS RECKLESS AND HEARTLESS! YOU JUST SHOT HIM!”

“I know.” 

“HE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A WEAPON!” 

“I didn’t know that ” 

“YOU MURDERED HIM! ”

His eyes raised to mine for the first time since I’d left sanity behind. 

“I’ve done worse.” 

I felt the cold run straight through my veins at the honesty. Did he not feel remorse!? He’d taken a life, didn’t that matter?

“You-” 

“I was only concerned with getting you out of there. He was the guy that put you in there, Scott!! THE BAD GUY! I KNOW WHAT THEY DO IN THERE! I HAD TO DO SOMETHING!!!! IT WAS MY FAULT YOU WERE EVEN IN THERE!” His shame, his fear, the sadness finally began to unmask as he lost control of his emotions.

It caused me to lose control of my own. I stepped closer, my finger poking into his chest. I dropped my voice, but just because it was quieter didn't make it any less vicious... quite the opposite.

"You're right.  YOU did this to me! YOU made my life shit! Do you understand me?! I HATE you and I hate everything that comes along with you and your special.fucking.life!! Pick someone else's life to ruin, Mitch. Just leave me be!!!

I was so cold to him. I was just so mentally drained and distorted. I focused every amount of anger that had built within me and lashed it out like a weapon, and it was obvious every word wounded him just as thoroughly as any bullet ever could. 

At the time I was glad. 

“Scott-” his voice waivered, tears began to rim his eyes and it made his angled features seem much softer. 

“Just get away from me!!!” I spat the words at him, intending to hurt, but when I saw the resulting pain written across his tired face, I had to turn my back to him. 

I wanted to hate him, to push him. I wanted to hit him and hurt him like I had hurt so many times before. 

“I love you and I’m so, so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” it was half whispered, half choked and it ripped my heart completely in two. 

He touched my shoulder and out of reflex I shrunk away, shrugging it off. The touch disappeared and I held my breath until I knew he’d left the room.

I had to sit on the bed again, my legs finally giving out from under me.

I didn’t know what to do, what I wanted, how I felt...  

Right? Wrong? 

I let my head fall into my hands. 

I’m not much for religion, but these situations kept bringing the prayer out of me. I said a small one for Avi. I apologized and forgave him. I wondered how his sister, little Esther, would find out? What would they tell her? Would she cry for him?

It made me angry again, but anger only lasts so long and then there’s nothing left. 

I was alone again in a strange place. My heart ached for him, and yet my head still cursed him and all of the drama that had unfolded as a result of him. All of the pain, all of the suffering… 

What was best for me? What was best in that moment? 

What did I want?

I eventually got to my feet and slowly began to wander around the foreign building. I ran into quite a few people I’d never met before. They all looked at me as if I were a sick puppy. They all felt sorry for me, I could see it. They acted concerned, asked if I was ok, made small talk, made me sit down for a bit.  I wasn’t really listening to anything they said, I didn't care anyway, but I did take little resting breaks. 

Eventually it was overwhelming and I stepped outside to let the cool air fill my lungs. I should have felt free in that moment, but that heaviness still lay on me.  

I walked, barefoot in the grass, across the lawn and down to a lake that shimmered with the fresh sunrise. 

It reflected off of his face beautifully, and the tears that made his cheeks shiny made that beauty radiate even more. 

Even in sorrow he was a work of art. 

His eyes pressed shut as my arms snaked around him from behind. His body folded as he crumpled inwardly, hung his head and his sobs let loose. 

Odd how I came to be the one holding him as he turned in my arms and clung to me with all he had in him. He grasped at my shirt, my arms as he cried into my chest, telling me on a repeat cycle that he was so sorry, that he loved me and he never meant to hurt me. 

He begged me not to leave him, begged for forgiveness. 

But really, though I hated him, wanted to push at him, punish him ... I loved him. My heart was invested and it had only ever belonged to him. Demented, torn, and abnormal as it was, we were joined by it. 

When he looked up at me, brown eyes pleading with mine, apologies spilling from his lips, I knew he’d do anything for me. 

He’d risk his life, even kill if he had to.

All for me. 

For me.  

He was still begging when I pressed my mouth to his, and he held tighter to my body,  afraid I might evaporate at any given moment. My legs felt weak again, a bit unstable, and my stitches tugged painfully, but I didn’t care.

I finally felt free again.