Partners

The first time she saw him, she was frightened.

His face, contorted with fury, was black and blue. He was slamming his frail body against the side of the cage while a man in white leered. She shrunk to the furthest corner of her cage, trying to be invisible as the Eraser toting the other mutant barked with laughter. Though the two adults spoke, she was frozen and concentrated only on not being seen. Not being seen meant not being hurt.

Her ears did register the sharp zap! of the Taser, then a barely suppressed yelp by the caged mutant. She flinched and waited, barely breathing, until she heard the door slam shut and was sure they had gone. Only then did she dare move, trying to get a better look at whatever the whitecoats had left in the room. Had they forgotten it? She didn't want to be left alone with the ferocious caged thing.

But she could now see that the mutant wasn't a monster at all, which thanks to his bruised, bloodied face and the black feathers scattered around the cage, had been her first impression. No. As a matter of fact, he was a boy, and didn't look that much older than her. She met his eyes, dark as his hair and wings-just like hers!-and tried to smile. He didn't seem frightening now that the man in white was gone, just defeated. A little scared, if anything. She watched as he narrowed his eyes, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with a sleeve. She wiggled her shoulders, unfurling the wings, which, until then, had been pressed uncomfortably to her back. There were always more tests they saw her wings. Still, she liked having them. They were soft and warm and great to snuggle into after the tests. She felt safe in her wings, and they were hers.

"See?" She whispered, knowing the men in white didn't like it when she talked. "I'm just like you."

He hadn't responded.

At first the silence felt awkward. He never spoke, not to her, not to his whitecoat; he didn't even react vocally when the Erasers dragged him out of his cage by the wings. They weren't allowed to talk much, anyway, and soon it became comfortable. It was better than being alone, anyway. At least now she could smile at him and wave a little when one of them returned from a test. Sometimes, he nodded back. One time, he even reached through the bars of his prison and tripped the Eraser trying to get at her. The Eraser had thrown him against the wall in return. When he woke, she reached through the bars of their cages to offer him a scrap of fabric. He even smiled slightly as she pressed it to his bleeding forehead.

Maybe the best part about having him was that they tended to be tested together. In these cases, there was always someone to guard you back, help you up, or at least give you that look when you were back in your cages that read: we made it.

The room was quiet, but never as silent as when she had been alone. He was always there breathing, watching, and though she no longer became frustrated at his worldlessness, sometimes she wished he could speak, just so she could know what went on behind those shining dark eyes.

XXXXX

She didn't know how or when it happened.

All she knew was that one day they had been set loose on a field. She hadn't felt, seen, or even heard of grass before, or dirt, and it scared her. At first she wouldn't move, terrified of the prickly green stubs beneath her feet, but soon she had no choice. Five Erasers had joined them, and though the grass was new, she and the boy both recognized this old routine: kill or be killed. Different arena, same test.

Fighting as a pair was becoming habit. They knew each other well enough to react without words, to spin and duck and kick and rag the other out of the mud before an Eraser stamped down on his or her head.

There was only difference between this fight and all the others. He was caught. She watched in horror as if in slow motion, an Eraser slammed him to the ground. Everyone had seen what had happened to Eraser victims if the whitecoats didn't call them off fast enough, and he was already dazed. They had done mazework the day before and they were both slower than usual. She knew there were two other Erasers left, that it was her job to dodge them as long as possible or kill them, but all she could think was not him. Before she knew what her body was doing, she was flying and pushing him out of the way just in time, not even recognizing or caring that this would put her in harm's way. Then there was pain, and then there was darkness.

XXXXX

At first she didn't realize she was awake. Everything was still dark, dark as his eyes, but soon enough she started to hurt. Dreams didn't hurt, but her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She whimpered, and something squeezed her hand. It was warm, but cooler than the rest of her body. Her mind felt as if an Eraser had lit it on fire, and yet she dimly noticed something cold and damp on her forehead. It felt odd, compared with the rest of her pain. It was nice. Comforting, like the hand in hers. The girl's eyelids fluttered and gradually, she was able to focus on two dark points. Unlike the frightening darkness she still struggled in, they were familiar. One side of her face felt swollen, and the edges of her vision were cloudy, but she could still see how worried he was. His mouth was set in a thin line, battered face tight with anxiety. It was getting easier and easier to read him. She tried to smile, hoping he would calm down. She didn't know why they were in the same cage, but she didn't want him to worry. He was safe now.

But for some reason, this didn't help; his eyes flashed. "Are you a complete and total idiot?" He snarled, hands shaking as he dampened the cloth pressed to her head. Water bottles often ended up used for cleaning wounds more than hydration. She didn't know why he was using his precious water on her; he was clearly furious. Unless she was imagining everything.

"You can talk?" She breathed, completely taken aback. The water felt good, but her forehead still hurt. Her whole body ached. Was she dreaming?

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. You know you were actually starting to grow on me, except now it's clear that you're clinically insane." He broke off into mutters. "You practically kill yourself jumping at an Eraser, and all you notice is that I can talk. Idiot. Moronic, self-sacrificing…"

He could talk. And even though he was insulting her and calling her bat crazy and Eraser food, she didn't mind. His voice was unlike any she had ever heard; soft, like the hand that brushed the hair from her eyes. It was the voice of an ally, one who wouldn't speak unless he saw fit, one who wouldn't betray her to the men in white. When he finally silenced, just to keep him talking, she whispered, "thank you."

She was exhausted, and yet she kept her eyes open long enough to see his dark eyes flicker. It was quick, and then the mask she was accustomed to seeing fell back into place. As usual, she had absolutely no idea what was on his mind.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For the Eraser."

"Of course," she frowned, puzzled. They didn't know the word friend yet, and wouldn't have known what it meant if they did, but she clutched his hand weakly. "We're partners, right?"

Something in his mask slipped, just for an instant, and she saw how scared he had been, how glad he was that she was awake, and how inside he was declaring yes! when in reality he just nodded, wordless. She didn't mind; they didn't need words.

Partners. She smiled as she closed her eyes. Even if they didn't need them, she liked that word. Partners.