Invalid

Five

Sometimes I think I was too young to fight, then I think of the five year old that fought beside me...

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The knife currently jabbed in my hip probably deserved swear words that dripped from my lips the way blood currently was -fast and plentiful.

Yet none came.

Wrist Tattoo, also being the person i've come to know as Michael, ran his hands through his hair again, putting my share of tradables that I won tonight in a pile beside me. The items consisted of five packets of beef jerky, a few bottles of nail polish, a bar of soap, eight peppermint candy canes, a small bag of pasta, a pair of socks, two bottles of water, and seven dented cans of vegetables.

We could both still hear the fights continuing in the next room, the sound only helping with the constant headache I also picked up tonight.

The amount of tradables I won is slightly worth it, the food calling to me at every opportunity, my stomach growling -a strange sensation i'll admit, seeing as how i've lost so much blood in that region. The socks would need to go to Wade though, his bare feet probably already freezing as it was. And I could use the soap to clean his wounds properly.

I was hoping to at least get some painkillers though -now for more than just Jane- but none appeared in my pile. 

Had this been an upperside part of town, there would have been a better variety of items after a fight like this. I could have gotten three bottles of painkillers by now had the location been different, but this was a poorer part of the country, i'm lucky I earned what I did.

Cringing, I pushed myself off the cold, hard metal of the table I had been sitting on, gripping my pack and unzipping it. One by one, each thing went in, except for one package of jerky I teared open with my teeth. Picking up my jacket, I slipped my arms into each sleeve and walked away, showing myself out.

"Where you going, sweetheart?" I heard behind me, turning to see Michael giving me an odd look, a peice of jerky now hanging from my mouth.

Biting a chunk off, I said in between chews, "I've got things to take care of." My answer came in a simple tone, but in all actuality, I was nervous. Jane could be dead for all I know, and then Wade would be alone right now. But now that i've won some things worth trading, I might be able to help better.

He laughed softly, motioning for me to come back to him, his hands already reaching into a drawer and pulling out what I instantly recognized to be a first aid kit. "No, you're not. Not with bruises and cuts like that anyway." All I did was take another bite from my food.

"What do you care? I can take care of myself, you know?" But on the inside my mind was screaming at me to let him help, perhaps even somehow getting some bandages for Wade in the process.

Again, he laughed. "God, trust me, I know that." He replied, placing the kit on the table and opening it. "Which I guess means I owe you an apology, small-fry."

I did walk closer this time, the image of Wade still in my head. Soap that would clean his wounds wouldn't work to its full potential if not covered up, keeping dirt and whatnot out of the area. "Apologize for what?"

"Saying you couldn't take them on." I nodded in understanding, finishing off my snack. "I should've seen it though, the way you held yourself should have given away that you were trained in one of the better locations. But let's say I do my apologizing while fixing you up, sound alright?"

Not seeing a better option anymore, I finally agreed, taking my jacket back off to reveal the scratches and bruises I gained. My backpack fell to the floor, me placing it and my package of jerky there as I hopped back onto the table next to Michael and winced, the knife still stuck in me.

I probably should have taken it out already, given the pain it was causing and all, not to mention the possible rust it might be covered in. But a small part of me figured it was a tiny fraction of the reason I wasn't yet bleeding out, so it stayed, me not wanting to be unaware of what was going on around me when being surrounded by so many possible robbers in this building. Being stabbed had happened to me more than anyone my age should ever have to deal with, by now I knew when the right time to pull it out or not was. At least when around Jane she's too weak to rob me, plus I slightly trusted her, and Wade was too tiny and helpless to be afraid of, his dark and adorable cheeks making him too cute.

Suddenly, I felt a cold, stinging sensation on my arm, Michael pressing a damp cloth on my injuries. He went at it slow and calmly, making me think this may have been something he was taught to do for the Officials, his movements cautious and focused.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He told me, biting his lip and continuing.

"Wow, great pep talk, real uplifting. That the same one you use every morning to help you tackle the day? If so, it needs some tweaking." I muttered, hissing when he pressed harder, now at my wrist and helping there. "Um, just being curious and all, why exactly am I an idiot?"

I saw him roll his eyes. "For fighting Sara like you did." Then his gaze met mine, a cough escaping his throat. "Doesn't exactly take a genius to figure out she was the type to play dirty."

"Wait, so i'm an idiot for doing that?" I asked, grabbing his arm and pulling it away from my wound and, more importantly, away from me. "In case I missed it somehow, I don't exactly remember me begging to hear your opinion on the topic. You don't know my reasoning for being here, I don't need this crap." 

"You also don't need the frickin' attitude you got," He snarled, pushing my arm away and getting back to his work of being healer. He looked me in the eye, moving his hand with the rag to my face, wiping the blood from one of my brows. "Yet something tells me that's not going away anytime soon." 

An awkward silence filled the space of any sentences that could have been said after that, him shrugging it off and moving between my legs to stand closer, and me almost falling backward on the table as he did so, my hand thinking it would a good idea to hold onto his shoulder for balance. 

Our faces were mere inches from the other now, him not looking like he cared, the rag now running over my lip and cleaning down to my chin. It was only when we both knew it was time to face the real problem -the knife sticking out of me- that he spoke again. 

"I guess you're kinda lucky after all, sweetheart." He touched the handle, sending a frenzy of stings with it. "From my perspective of things, she was going for a more fatal area. Looks like she missed." He still just looked at it though, instead of doing the obviously needed pulling of the knife out.

I probably would have yanked it out by myself but his finger was still resting on the edge, making it where if I tried, it could cause more damage. "Yep," I huffed. "Lucky me."

He was thinking, that much was sure, him tapping his chin a few times then saying, "Okay, Jennifer, I need you to do me a favor."

"Jen." I corrected. "Not Jennifer."

"Fine. Jen," He took a deep breath. "Will you do me a favor?"

Looking him over, his hand firmly gripping the knife, I saw something written on his face that I couldn't read. "Depends on what it is?" I choked out. 

Another full breath of air. "Nothing too big, it's simple really." He whispered, our faces suddenly closer again. "Don't slap me."

Before I could get him to elaborate, the hand of his not currently occupied with holding a deadly weapon cupped my cheek, his lips connecting with mine in the same motion. They were soft and might've been enjoyable had I not realized seconds later the reason for this action, the instant pain in my hip firing to life as he yanked it out as fast and as gently as he could.

The kiss still lingered for a second, his mouth moving with mine the little bit I allowed it, my hand placed around his neck, feeling the tips of his hair as I did. And then it ended, blood flooding from my shirt to my jeans, Michael already to work on lifting the fabric covering the wound. Swallowing hard, I mumbled, "A distraction. Yeah, um, t-that was a good idea. What taught you that, training with Officials or street smarts?"

He chuckled, me giving an odd smile as a result and him getting to work on bandaging the spot. "I tend to think something like that would be thanks to the harsh life of living on the street, wouldn't you?" 

I nodded, my heart pumping fast from what just happened -though full blame can't exactly be thrown on a kiss for it. Michael kept touching the skin around the gash, applying what was needed, my nerves feeling as if they were completely shot.

"How deep is it?" I questioned him, glancing down as he touched me, the big red mess on my stomach speckled with parts of the black remnants belonging to my tank-top from when it got shoved in. Making a joke of it, I added, "I'm not gonna die, right?"

He shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. "It's not that bad. You should be fine, Jen." He assured me, his fingers still gently laying on the skin beside the slowly being bandaged wound, little flashes of heat running through my body from his touch. And at one point I moved, him positioning that same hand in a different spot, keeping me still by putting it on my leg, grazing my exposed flesh that was showing through the hole in my jeans.

When he was done, I removed him from in front of me, my jacket back in my grasp. Then, I took a good look at the weapon, covered in my blood. I picked it up, wiping it off on y shirt. "So, you think it would be okay if I kept the knife?" Examining it more, I realized it was almost perfect, without a blemish such as rust -a type of item any Invalid could use, and very tradable.

"I suppose so." He said, putting the kit away. Dang, looks like my theory of getting bandages just died. "After all, you've been a good sport, what with the way I had to pull it out and all."

Never being one to blush, I rolled my eyes instead, not focusing on him mentioning the kiss. And it's not like i've never felt something like it before anyway. It happens, it's over, you move on. No need in becoming a shy, awkward mess over it.

"Thanks." I smiled, sticking the blade in my waist-band and picking up my package of jerky again, taking out another piece and sticking the whole thing in my mouth.

"Yeah, no problem." He too, I noticed while chomping, had no indication of heat rushing to his face, the color taking over the paleness of his neck -unlike others i've come across. Obviously, he had some experience in this area. "So, who were you doing it for?"

"Excuse me?" 

"The fight." He answered. "You seem reasonable enough to not get yourself involved unless it was urgent, especially considering how it turned out. And you seemed perfectly healthy, give or take a few pounds, so I just assumed."

It was then I realized he wasn't just being nosy, prying into my life. Though prying was definitely present though, he seemed to be asking for a different reason. "Why do you want to know?"

Absentmindedly, he rubbed at the back of his neck, ignoring my question. "You know, I hear a virus is going around. Starting out looking like a cold and by the time you realize it's not, it's too late." I bit my lip, now more urgently than ever knowing I needed to leave and get back to Jane. "Just a rumor, you know how that goes. But given your reaction just now, i'd say you've seen it, and that that's why you're here, hoping to earn something to trade in exchange for a cure to this illness."

Obviously, he too was trained in a better unit by the Officials just like me, given how he can easily read expressions and find out things. I was told those in the smaller units only learned how to shoot a gun and fight, resulting in many of their deaths because the weren't fully prepared for what was to come.

But then again, none of us were every truly ready for something like war.

"It won't work though, the Official are banning any trade like that, knowing that we'll be desperate. All the bottles of medicine are locked away, in this most secure hositals in each state, guards blocking everyway. No getting in, and even if you do, you won't live long enough to make it back your friend." He paused for a moment. "At least, not alone."

My head snapped to him. Was he saying I needed help? And implying it should come from him?

I would have asked those questions, but something stopped me, a someone. Or two someones, rushing through the door, arms wrapped around the other, and lips connected. I noticed one as the girl I fought -Sara as Michael called her- her hair up and bruises covering her body the same mine was. 

I found myself rolling my eyes again, knowing a make-out session when I saw one. So, I used this new distraction to shrink past Michael -and the recent visitors- backpack and other belongings in tow, and head away from it all, leaving behind the potential offer that may or may not have been given.

But once, outside the noisy location, the old, rusty door creaking as I went, I heard footsteps behind me, a hand touching my arm moments later.

It was Michael, blond hair flopping over his eyes and almost glowing from the colors of the current sunset. He leaned in close, his mouth near my ear as his hot breath fanned over me, "I want to help." Then, he backed up, giving me room, his hand still on my arm. "Just take me to them, we'll go from there."

I don't know what it was, maybe the intense look in his eye or his willingness to actually help with the situation, maybe even the fact that I didn't want to deal with the problem alone anymore. But I nodded, leading the way to Jane and Wade, knowing that at least some good things have come out of my decision tonight.

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