Review Responses

Guest (review on Chapter 1): Thank you, I do try. To be fair, Dante got shot, so I think he has a reason for being a piece of work.

Guest (review on Chapter 2): I enjoy writing Wes, because he's both compassionate and incredibly annoyed over being compassionate. I'm glad that you liked the backstory. I had to get it in somehow.

A/N: I forgot to mention this last time, but in case anyone was interested, Riley's calling Dante Infierno, the Spanish word for Inferno. This can be seen as a play on the fifth book in Talon, but I wrote it as a blatant play on El Infierno de Dante/Dante's Inferno, which Riley calls him with the specific purpose to annoy him. And because Riley seems to have a thing for nicknames. (Firebrand, St. George, My surly hacker friend, etc.)

Without further ado:

Chapter 4
Dante

The days passed slowly. He spent most of his time sleeping, mostly in order to escape his pain and near-constant feeling of helplessness. He didn't see any of the other hatchlings either, even if he could hear them through the walls. Really, the only people that he habitually interacted with her Ember and the human medic. Sometimes Cobalt would come into the room, usually to ask for Ember and take her outside to talk in whispers that he couldn't understand. Once or twice, he'd sit down next to Dante and talk to him— give him updates in life, answer his questions as vaguely as possible. His tone always cold and removed, but rarely let his emotions show in his words themselves, other than stating his satisfaction that Dante had to be on the other end of captivity for once. Dante wasn't as successful in keeping his hatred contained, but Cobalt would only cut him off if he started moving. Something about "if you damage your spine in my presence, Wes will come after me with a scalpel. As amusing as it would be, I don't want him to die from stress, and neither do you."

"Hey, Dante," Ember shook him awake early one morning. Dante blearily looked up at her and furrowed his brow. Her hair was tightly braided away from her face, and she was wearing a black tank top and cargo pants rather than her usual jeans and a t-shirt.

"What?" he asked and tried to sit up. His back protested the movement before he could reach his elbows, and Ember pressed his shoulder back into the cot to keep him down.

"We got a message last night from a… person of interest, and I need to go deal with it. I'm going to be gone for a few days— don't ask questions, I'll give you a rundown after I get back— anyway, be cooperative for Wes. He might move someone else into your room, so don't… preach Talon propaganda, or anything. Nothing that would get you punched."

"'M not an idiot," Dante closed his eyes and resisted the urge to curl up on his side. That would not end well for him.

"You got me fooled."

"Where are you going?" he muttered, even if he knew it was pointless.

"Away. But I'll be back as soon as I can," she said. Dante managed to grasp at her wrist before she could stand, and Ember sighed. "We got word from a… fourth or fifth party, depending on how you count. Not Talon, not St. George, not the Chinese. It might be helpful to our cause, so Garret, Riley, and I are going to check it out while Wes and Jade stay here to keep everyone from dying."

"There's another group?"

"We don't know if it's a group or just a really intimidating, but solitary rogue. Hence, we are leaving." Ember gently pulled her wrist out Dante's grasp and reached down to smooth back his hair. "Hang in there."

"Ugh."

"Yeah, love you too."

She adjusted the blanket to better cover his shoulders and stood.

"Why…" Dante asked as Ember stopped in her retreat. "Why are you being so nice? You're usually less helpful when I get injured."

Ember raised her eyebrows and turned to better face him. "Am I?"

"Yeah… like the time I got bitten by that rattlesnake. After the danger passed you thought it was funny, a dragon getting taken down by some snake. And complained about being punished for it. I guess… it was kind of inconsequential, in hindsight. Really hurt, though."

Ember blinked slowly. "I don't remember that. I…" she swallowed and clenched her fists, but then gave a transparent smile that Dante didn't believe for a second. "I don't remember very much from those days, anymore."

Dante nodded and let his voice go down to a mumble. "I suppose it was more memorable for me."

"Yeah…" Ember said. "Get more sleep while I'm gone. I'll be back to annoy you before you know it."

Dante could hear the open and closing of a door as Ember left and rubbed his arm, where he could still feel twin puncture-wounds. She really didn't remember?

He closed his eyes, pulling the blanket to his chin. He pushed Ember from his mind. What she had said was important, he knew that it was— she had given him more information in that conversation than any other time— but it could be important later. Dante settled into a better position to sleep and released his hold on consciousness.

It was all he could do, as of late.

...

He woke up a while later, late enough in the day for the sunlight to pierce through the curtains over the window and hit the floor where he lay. He groaned and raised his hands to rake through his tangled, greasy hair. It was… day eight, he believed, since he was taken from Talon, including his comatose days. God knew that the organization had to be looking for him with a frenzy, and whoever was assigned his case— hopefully someone competent— had to be getting close. Either that or the Elder Wyrm would have the dragon's head.

He was not looking forward to meeting the Elder Wyrm again. It wasn't his fault that he was in a helpless situation, but she probably would see it as a failure. After the Night of Fang and Fire, he couldn't deal with another failure, especially if it was a failure that was because of Cobalt. Again.

At least they wouldn't think that he'd gone rogue.

Would they?

The door opened. Dante looked to see Wes walk in, another hatchling at his heels, following at a pronounced limp. She sat down on Ember's bed as soon as she could. Dante tried to keep her in his sight, ignoring the little bit of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't used to being with other hatchlings, especially rogue hatchlings. Did they know that he was responsible for attacking the chapterhouse, or trying to kill Riley? Dammit, this wasn't looking good for him.

"Food, water, bathroom?" the medic asked, drawing Dante's attention back to him.

"Who is she?" he asked. He heard the girl snort from Ember's cot and saw the human roll his eyes. He sat down next to Dante and lifted him into a semi-sitting position, per usual. Dante managed to keep the still-present pain off of his face. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Are you going to answer mine?" the human asked. Dante bit back a snarl. Insufferable human that didn't know his place next to dragons. It was probably what turned him to Cobalt's side in the first place.

"Yes," he said. "It's noon, what do you think?"

"That you're a bloody brat."

Wes continued to work around him, slipping on latex gloves before he undid his bandages, cleaned his wounds, and then re-did the gauze. His stitches had been taken out the day before, thankfully, but the wound was still tender, and apparently still at risk of infection. Dante wouldn't know.

"Dante, this is Nettle. She's recently been cleared to not have my watching over her every move in case her leg re-broke, and she volunteered to babysit while Ember's gone," Wes said as he unscrewed a plastic water bottle and gave it to Dante, still helping him prop himself up. At least he could control his hands enough to grip the bottle himself at this point. "You can still bow out, Nettle. I would not blame you."

"What else is there to do?" she asked. "I've been pretty much immobile for ten days."

"Hey, you had more mobility after day two than this one has had since Cobalt shot him," Wes said. Dante repressed a snarl at Cobalt's name as he set down his half-finished water. Wes gave him a hot pocket. "And you had painkillers."

"Wait, there are painkillers?" Dante asked.

"Not for you, Talon," Wes said. "Nettle, help me support him while I strap him into the back brace."

"Why don't I get painkillers?" Dante asked. Not that he really wanted them. He was squeamish enough around medical things in general, and he had a feeling that being disoriented would make it worse. But damn would they be helpful.

"Eat your hot pocket, Talon Boy," Nettle said as she limped over and knelt down beside him. "If I understood correctly, we are rather low on painkillers, and the underground gets dibs over you."

Dante winced as Wes strapped him in, but the brace made sitting up easier. And for when he had to move. He continued to eat, finished his food, and then finished his water in silence. Then the medic eased him to his feet, taking most of his weight as he stumbled down the hallway and to the bathroom. He managed to brace himself on the vanity as Wes closed the door.

He looked like a ghost.

Dante shuddered. After eight days, he was usually good at not looking at himself in the mirror. His skin was grey with a sheen from oil and sweat, his hair was dirty and disorganized, and he had lost a noticeable amount of weight. His posture was bent and stiff, shoulders pained. He could try to straighten himself out, but it caused an electric current to go down his back and try to hunch against his brace again.

He barely recognized himself as the proud chameleon that he was. He looked more like a scared teenager.

Their fault. They did this to me, and they'll pay. I will make them live long enough to regret ever laying a hand on me.

As he finished what he needed to and hobbled back to the door, practically letting his legs give out in front of the human, it was starting to feel like wishful thinking.

...

Nettle didn't speak with him, which was fine by Dante. She had a coloring book, apparently, and was very determined to finish. Either that or she just really didn't want to talk. Dante tried to sleep through the first day, but with recovery came consciousness, which left him beyond bored and itching to move.

"Does Wes know when I'll be allowed to walk?" He asked Nettle. She looked up from her book and shrugged.

"I'd ask him the next time he comes in. I'm here to make sure you don't try to military crawl out the door, not to be your nurse," she said. Dante bit back a groan. Being gripey with Ember was one thing, but being so with a complete stranger would be just plain pitiful.

He was a little pitiful at this point. But things would improve once he got back to Talon. No doubt they had a surgery that would fix his spine, and then he'd be able to walk again. And shift again. He hadn't shifted for nearly six months.

Why hadn't he? He knew that he wasn't supposed to, but it would be easy to break the rules just once. Close the curtains to his hotel, send his guards outside, and shift just once, to have the feeling of living in his own body one more time.

One last time.

"So… son of the Elder Wyrm," Nettle said. Dante jerked and looked at her. She stared at him quizzically. "For all the hype Riley gave when he and Wes brought you in, you don't look like much."

Dante narrowed his eyes fractionally. "I suppose we all have our bad days. Riley doesn't look too impressive, either." And yet, he poisoned my sister. He destroyed everything I worked for. He destroyed me.

"What, you're not a fan of his rebel-with-a-cause aesthetic? You prefer the juvenile businessman look?" she smirked, but then let it drop. Her gaze grew clouded. "I don't know why Riley let you live."

Dante's heart skipped a beat. Did she know that he was in charge of the operation that nearly killed them all? That should have killed them? His eyes darted to the door, and he considered screaming for Wes. He was defenseless, it wouldn't be right to attack him while he was prone.

Wasn't that what you did to that village? Killed them all while they were unprepared and without a way to call for help?

There wasn't any other choice. That was the only way to test the vessels.

"I mean, what gives you the right?" she continued. Dante swallowed. "Five of us died, yet someone who willingly worked with the people who did it is allowed to live? You worked against Riley, but you get to live. Look at me." Dante did so and met her gaze, copper brown irises and slitted pupils. "My best friend died in that raid, he was seventeen and he had never hurt anyone and he died, and you get to live. What makes you so special?"

That hurt more than it should have. He knew that dragons had died. He had gotten the reports from the cameras. He could rationalize it because they were rogues. They signed up for it the moment they left Talon. But it was different in this room, laying on a cot provided by the people he had tried to kill, with medical attention from the human that also had to deal with injury that he had caused. He had never had to see what had happened. He didn't have to see the bodies or the grief, he just saw numbers. Not names. Not personalities. And now he was face-to-face with a girl that he had tried to murder, who looked heartbroken over her friend's death.

They kidnapped you, Dante. They shot you and kidnapped you, they deserve no mercy. They will burn like the rest of the resistance.

They could have killed you.

The truth in that. They could have killed him. If their situation had been reversed, he would have killed them. He would have let them bleed out and he would have been happy. But he wasn't in a body bag, or six feet underground. He was here. Imprisoned, yes, but alive and breathing.

More than Nettle's friend would ever achieve again.

"I… I'm sorry for your loss," Dante whispered. Nettle seemed to deflate, half-heartedly throwing a marker across the room. "Truly."

"Everyone is. Riley is, and Wes is, and Ember is… but Remy's still dead. He's not coming back, no matter how sorry you all are," she said. "And the worst thing is, I forget he's gone. I keep wondering where he is, or calling for him so I can talk to him, and sometimes I think I see him in the fields. And then I remember." She paused, eyes staring at nothing.

"Why are you telling me this?" he whispered.

"You need to know the truth of your organization," she said softly. Dante winced. If only she knew. "Almost everyone thinks that you can't be swayed, and I think that I agree with them. But, even if you can't be, you might as well know exactly who you're working with. No use to be in the dark."

I know exactly who I'm working with. They made their choice to go rogue, so they have to deal with the consequences. The Elder Wyrm does what's best.

Dante kept his mouth shut. Nettle was trying to mess with his head. She was trying to sway his loyalty. It wouldn't work.

But Nettle was a kind person— no getting around that. Even though she was angry and injured and grieving, she was a kind person. If their situations were reversed, Dante would've ordered her death for abandoning the organization. By Talon's rules, he should've been left to die or be tortured for information. No question. But he was alive. He was in recovery. Which only lead to one possibility:

This underground was kinder than Talon would ever be.

A/N: It has taken FOUR CHAPTERS, and he's just now realizing this, guys. Four chapters. (To his credit, he was unconscious for at least 75% of the time leading up to this). And there are still SEVEN MORE CHAPTERS. What's going to happen in those seven chapters? Heh.

The rattlesnake story goes back to Legion, for anyone who's forgotten.

Reviews are love, reviews make me happy, and reviews make me edit better. Any feedback is appreciated (barring 'delete this fanfiction' responses) and helps me know which direction you want the possible Part 2 to go. I work hard on these chapters, guys. Please Review. :D