Arya knew something was wrong the instant she woke up.

The sheets beneath her were stiff, the smell of industrialised cleaner invading her nose as her eyes opened hesitantly. She wasn't in the nurses office anymore, that was for sure, and she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly why. A single glance at her arms and legs confirmed it. "Not again," she sighed, shoulders sinking as she spotted the dried blood which'd seeped through the stiff white rolls of fabric.

"So this has happened before?" Startlingly grey eyes stared at her from one side of the bed.

Arya screamed. "Who're you?!" She yelled, shuffling back, stiffening as a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Ease up, kiddo, we aren't here to hurt you."

"Flint, let me handle this," the first spoke, running a hand through his inky locks—evidently exasperated with the blonde's antics. "Take a look around." His attention snapped back to Arya in a heartbeat. "Guess."

"Hospital?"

He nodded.

"Doctor?"

"Of sorts," he smiled. "I'm Rian, and that idiot behind you is Flint. We're the ones in charge of Riverdale Hospital... though thankfully we don't get too many visitors..."

"Do you seriously have to introduce me as an idiot?"

"Yes, now go and finish writing up that report I told you to. I've got things handled here," he said, glaring at him until he shuffled away. "Now, back to the matter at hand, I suppose..."

Arya bit her lip. "Do we really have to go there?" she asked. "I mean, I'm fine now." She sat up, wincing slightly at the pounding in her head. She'd expected that much, though. It was always like that after she woke up from one of those dreams.

Her hopes of escape were soon dashed though, thanks to the arm that snaked in front of her—gently pushing her back down. "You lost a lot of blood."

"I'll be fine."

One eyebrow quirked. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

"Maybe," she muttered.

He was sharp, and Arya didn't like that. She didn't like it one bit. She already knew what his next questions would be, and they weren't ones she wanted to answer—not truthfully, at least.

Not when it came to anything relating to that.

The mere thought of something about it sent shivers down her spine—her mind dredging up all the images she wanted to forget, giving her a splitting headache while she was at it.

"There wasn't anything in your medical records."

"I didn't go to the hospital." She folded her arms. "There wasn't any need."

"You lost a lot of blood."

"So I've heard," she muttered, squirming slightly under his intense scrutiny.

"Look, we can sit here until you finally crack and tell me what I want to know," he said, exasperation written across his face. "Or, you can just get it over and done with in the next five minutes and I'll leave you be... Which'll it be?"

Arya scowled. "The second one, I suppose... Well, if you let me go to Defence."

"Out of the question."

"Says who?"

Rian's eye twitched. "Me."

"And I'm supposed to care about your opinion because...?"

"Do you want to be stuck in the hospital for the rest of the year?"

"Not particularly."

"You're not going to Defence, and that's final."

Her shoulders sunk. "You're no fun."

"I'm in charge of the hospital. I'm not supposed to be fun."

"Bet the ladies love that..."

Rian blinked. "Oh dear God... Don't tell me we've got another Lydia in the making..." He shook his head. "You're staying here until you recover. You probably can't even walk straight."

"So if I can, I can go to Defence?"

"Enough." He scowled. "I know what you're trying to do—you're avoiding the topic."

Arya gritted her teeth. "I don't like talking about it."

"Maybe you need to."

"And maybe you need to shut up," she grumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Again—avoiding the topic." Rian stared at her, unamused. "That miniature blondie arrived with you in his arms, bleeding like there was no tomorrow."

"Miniature blondie?"

"Don't change the subject," he sighed. "When I examined you five minutes later there weren't any cuts or injuries at all... care to explain?"

"I heal fast."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," she muttered through clenched teeth. "It's weird and unnatural. I've been told that plenty of times... so can I just go to Defence now?"

"Not until you've had lunch." A third, and very familiar, voice spoke up.

"She's not going."

Flynn smiled, setting the tray of food he'd been carrying down in front of her. "Well, even if she isn't going, she still needs to eat—and not that horrible hospital food you were no doubt going to give her."

"Flynn?"

"Flint! Get back to your report," Rian hissed, glaring the elder blonde back into the other room, pausing when he turned back around only to find Arya with an empty plate.

"What? I was hungry."

"Apparently so—and just where do you think you're going?" He stood, arms crossed over his chest as he moved to block her path. "You're staying here."

"Like hell."

"Arya, he knows what he's—"

"I don't like hospitals, OK?!" Arya yelled, her limit of patience having finally been reached. The smell was getting to her, and every breath she took made it harder for her to stay. All she wanted to do was flee through the double doors, and the only thing stopping her from doing so was sheer willpower... Well, that and the two guys blocking her way to the exit.

"Not many people do."

"The smell..." Arya's face darkened. "It reminds me of her."

"Who?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Clearly it does." Flint reappeared in the room, holding out a sheet of paper. "I've done my report now, Ri. You can't send me away again." He all but sung, a wide grin on his face as he turned to the member of the Disciplinary Committee. "Heya, Flynnie... I haven't seen you around as of late..."

"I wonder why..."

"Flynnie," Arya echoed, blinking in confusion.

"You're always so mean to me, Flynnie."

"Stop calling me that." He grimaced.

"Why? We're cousins, aren't we?"

"Fine, let me rephrase that," Flynn all but growled. "Stop calling me that in public."

A smile curled at her lips. "It's cute."

His cheeks reddened. "That's the point! I'm a Commander of the Disciplinary Committee... I'm not supposed to be cute and cuddly."

Flint smirked. "Emphasis on supposed to."

"Go away, already." He twitched, glaring daggers at his cousin. "You know I don't want to see you."

"Just do as he says," Rian sighed. "We've got more pressing issues to deal with than your little falling out."

Flynn stiffened.

"I'm going to Defence," Arya said, sidestepping the irate man, fighting to stay calm as he immediately moved to block her way. "I'm fine, I can walk ten metres in a straight line, and I'm not suffering from the effects of blood loss."

"Oh really?"

"Want me to prove it to you?"

He stepped back. "Go ahead."

Grinning toothily she walked forwards, walking in a perfect straight line all the way to the double doors. "See ya."

"Wait—"

The doors slammed shut behind her, cutting off his response as she hurried away, tearing her bandages off on her way—revealing two pale pinkish legs without a single scar or blemish. She was fine. Not a single gaping wound in sight... Not that she'd expected anything less.

It was what had intrigued her.

"Arya!"

The girl in question struggled to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Flynn was chasing after her, much to her annoyance. "What?"

"You need to go back."

"No way in hell."

He shook his head, but oddly enough he didn't insist or attempt to drag her back by force—not that she'd let him. "Fine," he said, "but if I see a single drop of blood during Defence, then I'll drag you back... whether you like it or not."

"You can try."

"Is that a challenge?" He smiled. "Come on, you're gonna be a bit late as it is."

"Sure thing... Flynnie."

"No."

"What's the matter, Flynnie?"

"Don't call me that."

Arya smirked, and his face dropped.

"Dammit."

***

The training hall, as Flynn had called it, was relatively easy to find thanks to the large lettering outside proclaiming it to be 'Training Hall Three'. Everyone else had been on time, having not made a detour to the hospital, unlike Arya.

"Ari!" Jake waved her over as soon as she walked through the doors. "Where were you at lunch? Me and Lyd were looking all over for you..."

She shrugged. "I was in the hospital," she said, ignoring the stares of the three she assumed to be their instructors. "What're you doing in my Defence Class? You get held back?"

"You wish." He rolled his eyes. "Get over here, already."

"Huh?"

"You're in my group, and I'm giving you a demonstration... so seeing as how you came in late, you get to be my volunteer," he explained, his lips curling up into a slight smile.

"A demonstration of what?" she asked, moving into the space he directed her to.

"Punching things," and with that said, he attacked, his fist narrowly missing her head as she jerked her face out of the way. She liked her nose just the way it was—straight and unbroken.

Compared to dodging high-speed tennis balls, Jake's punches were child's play. They also hurt a lot less, because compared to him Jake was a complete and utter weakling. Still, that hadn't stopped the guy from laughing at her as she narrowly dodged all the balls lobbed her way. She'd been through three years of that horrifying training and it was safe to say her instincts were well honed.

"Not bad."

Arya grinned, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. "Compared to tennis balls, they're a hell of a lot easier to dodge..."

Confusion flittered across his face. "OK..."

"Hmm."

Arya froze, eyes widening as she registered the presence behind her far too late.

"So this is the little runt Jake adopted."

Her hands curled into fists, spinning around to face the redhead standing behind her. He was Jake's age, if her eyes were any judge, and he didn't look too happy either—if the dagger he held in his hands was any indicator.

"Felipe." The sharp voice of one of the instructors cut him off. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Saying hello."

Jake swore, racing forwards as Felipe discarded his dagger, drawing his sword instead.

"Time to welcome you into Jake's little gang," he sung softly, lunging towards her, "by sending you to the hospital..."

Arya scowled, her arm moving on autopilot as she used what the monk had taught her so long ago—a technique she'd been trying, and failing, to perfect ever since she'd been left to her own devices. How far she had to go was made apparent as soon as her hand collided with the flat of his blade, a dull crunch of bone just about audible over the sound of shattering metal.

Jake skidded to a stop, eyes wide as Felipe's sword fell to the ground in three pieces. "Whoa..."

"Damn..." Arya hissed, ignoring all the shocked stares as she cradled her wrist.

She was still weak.

The sword was evidence of that.

She could only break it into three pieces...

The monk would've turned it to dust.

He'd also have a fully working wrist, too, but Arya was too busy scowling to care.