Once that dreaded truth came out, NC didn't know what to expect.

He had thought that AE-3803 would have left running away in terror. Even he would have run away to the nearest immune cell if it were in the same situation as the red blood cell. Although it had been confirmed by his creator that white blood cells wouldn't bother with regular normal cells and those with benign mutations, she didn't move a muscle.

Still, if 3803 would have run away, he wouldn't have blamed her.

He closed his eyes.

Rejection, he thought, could be better dealt with so long as he didn't see her. For a moment, he braced himself for anything—yelling, swearing, running away…

When had he become so complacent?

When had he realized that he could no longer be that Cancer Cell who had taken it upon himself to spread the rest of his dangerous mutations?

When had he known that he was no longer Cancer Cell?

He was Normal Cell now.

NC-1998.

How could he wrap his mind around this idea so steadily, gradually into what he was today?

His memories, or whatever was left of the grainy images and impressions of what once were powerful sensations, no longer defined him. Yes, he was originally Cancer, but now…

Now he was something else. Not more than Cancer Cell, but definitely not lesser than his predecessor.

Finally, after giving her enough time to run away, NC glanced up and found that all of his suspicions confirmed. Instead of a certain red blood cell, an empty spot beside him made up for it.

His Little Miss Red had decided to run away.

Trying to push away his feelings of abandonment, NC got to his feet and made his way to the bridge.

Like any other cell, he made his way across, careful not to trip over some leftover debris that must have been caused by a bacterial attack. Slowly, he made his way to the apex of the bridge and braced his hands along the brick wall. He stood at the center and leaned his head down.

The water underneath the bridge flowed serenely underneath him. NC chuckled a little regretfully as he continued to watch the current.

The water under the bridge was clear.

So clear.

So perfect.

Honestly, the river symbolized everything that NC could only ever hope to be. It ran with the current, it did what it was supposed to do and everyone respected its job. No one noticed the water under the bridge because it was unassuming and blended with the background.

Why would anyone want an existence where they never had to stand out?

NC knew the answer.

Those cells who would live day by day because of their jobs. The ones who were perfect. The ones who didn't question the sanctity of the system.

NC laughed a little to himself.

That same system may very well kill him the moment they knew that he was a mutation, regardless if he was benign or not. In fact, it was the very same system that his favorite cells, especially that neutrophil, would do anything, even kill a cell could have possibly been a great friend.

Wasn't he a friend to that neutrophil?

Once upon a time?

A cool breeze whipped NC's stray hair away from his face. It was refreshing and for a short while, NC breathed in.

Breathed out.

Breathed in again.

And—

"I think I dream about you sometimes."

NC stiffened and glanced behind him.

He didn't know what he expected, but seeing the red blood cell that he had scared off standing there like she was supposed to be at his side. Then again, she wasn't a fugitive with an unforgivable past.

He couldn't help but ask, "What are you doing here, Little Miss—"

He caught himself. She had displayed contempt and disgust whenever he had referred to her using that name. Even though a part of him would always think of that red blood cell as his dear Little Miss Red, he knew that he was treading a fine line.

Idly, he glanced around the premises and found that it was relatively empty.

How peculiar…

AE-3803 could have easily sent him away, straight into the arms of any white blood cell. Anyone would have believed her, considering that she was personally his victim and his mutation was still just that.

A mutation.

There was no way regulation would allow a cell that not only retained memories from his time as a bloodthirsty cancer cell, but one that also retained remnants of his previous mutation. Who was to say that he wouldn't develop other traits that could thus identify him further?

He was a cancer cell. And in the time he spent in the body before finally revealing himself to a trio of immune cells, he saw what happened to the body whenever it perceived a threat.

Bacteria was exterminated.

Parasites were disposed of.

Strange items that happened to elicit strange reactions from white blood cells were immediately shot through the sky, never to return.

And for cancerous cells?

They were killed. Murdered.

So why was AE-3803 reaching out for him, her hand slightly shaking?

Yet, as he looked deep into her golden eyes, she could see a truth that shone above all others.

She wouldn't leave him—at least, not yet. Instead, as her hand grabbed hold of his wrist and dragged him down from the side of the bridge—how long had he been standing on top of the bridge?—how did not know that he was angling himself to fall should there be a slightest hint of a breeze? Whatever the case, NC stumbled to his feet.

"You… you came back," he uttered lamely. Briefly, he wondered if this was all a trick, a ruse to make sure that there was backup coming in. Maybe it was even a test. While NC would have never thought of this initially back when he had first set his sights on the red blood cell, things had changed.

He had changed.

For the most part, with the way she was looking upon him with no fear and the slight braid that was coming apart at the base of her neck, he could safely say that she had changed as well. However—

Were her values the same as before? Certainly, she wouldn't go after an old friend, right?

But—

It wasn't as if they were real friends in the first place—as much as NC wanted to deny it. He had loved their conversations, looked forward to trying new treats with her, and just basking in her presence. For a time, he thought that he could somehow subsist off her smile and her thought provoking discussions about this and that.

Then, he had made a mistake.

"I dreamed of you," 3803 whispered again. It was said in a low voice, as if she were scared to admit this one truth to him. "I know that cells don't dream, that only the neurons could somehow conceive what it is, but…" She shook her head, more of her braid falling apart as if straining against constraints.

NC winced a little at that.

Too many bad memories (but he had enjoyed having her under his care, hadn't he?) of that time.

"I…" NC looked away. "Cells don't dream, but if you did—" He looked back at her and saw something within her eyes that made him want to keep talking, almost as if they were back in the first phase of their relationship—as if they were friends once more. "—if you did, what was I doing in that dream?"

The erythrocyte seemed to steel herself for a moment before she leaned against the wall of the bridge and slid down so that she was in a crouch. Wanting to know what she had to say about this so-called dream, he slid down next to her, careful to keep a safe distance when he saw her stiffen and fold a little into herself. She kept her knees close to her chest and her head tucked in. That was a maneuver that he had seen time and time again.

He should know.

He also had been subjected into that same position when he had been hiding from white blood cells during his youth.

Once he had settled, she spoke. Her words, while simple and steady, held a sense of finality. She would brook no argument if he had cause to disagree with whatever she had seen.

"I dreamed of you… but you were smaller. Helpless."

NC flinched at that. He never liked that word, especially when it was leveled against him. It wasn't his fault that he was born a cancer cell. It wasn't his fault that the cell he considered his brother had died at the hands of bloodthirsty cells who couldn't tell the difference from ill will and a child's cry.

3803's eyes were far away, as if recalling a memory of a memory. Not a dream—it can't be a dream.

But somehow, NC believed her.

"You were crying and you were running away." Her eyes became haunted. "And then, I saw you again, but older."

Tears began running down her cheeks, and her fists were clenched at her sides. A part of NC wanted to soothe her, to take her into his arms, but he had done that before, hadn't he? And where did that leave him?

"And-and-and—"

A sob left her throat as she tried to recall the events of her 'dream'. NC reached out with the intent to calm her down, but when she flinched and turned away, he pulled back. A large part of him wanted to lash out in anger, the rage over the confusion of his existence, of the way that others happened to respond to him because of his mutation. Because of his memories.

Because of who he was and what he may turn out to be.

But—

Another part of him, smaller and quieter than the rest, called to him.

It was a faint child's cry; it was a call for forgiveness, to think about the alternative.

Rather than try to forcefully help her, why not listen? Was that not what he had done back when their conversations were more genuine—when all they had to worry about was eating too many glucose cones or being late for work?

So, NC, much to his self-disgust and want to be… a friend, he decided to lean back and keep his distance.

"You were always there, weren't you? Always in the background, always watching." At his hesitant nod, 3803 continued with a bitterness in her tone and regret in her eyes. She heaved a breath before continuing, "And you took—stole—me away, as if I were nothing more than an object that you could have just picked up from the ground! What's worse, though, are all those cycles wasting away and you had the audacity to mock me with-with-with…"

NC, in horrified fascination, watched when she pulled out a handful of cards from the pack that she had strapped around her waist. She began reading the cards, all of them a series of identification numbers and letters.

HT-9008.

GB-1239.

TK-5490.

And so on.

With each name, NC felt his insides recoil, his brain burning and exploding inside of his chest, his organelles.

Finally, after what seemed like an entire multitude of names later, 3803 stopped.

"I always take a few of them with me. There's—" She hiccuped before wiping the back of her hand against her welling eyes. "—there's more back in my complex." Her eyes shone with more unshed tears, the golden hue both mesmerizing and damning at the same time.

NC didn't have to decipher what she was trying to convey through looks alone.

She was asking him why he had done the things that he had done.

She was asking him to make himself fully vulnerable, to reveal his innermost thoughts that she had been somewhat privy to during those last few days of her confinement.

And NC—

NC didn't know what to say.

Perhaps it was the way he kept silent, or the way he kept his eyes averted from her. For a long time, all NC could do was process everything and try to make sense of whatever his life was during his short stay in the body so far. Before long, the cycle was swiftly coming to an end, their surroundings becoming dimmer, duller in the fanding luminescence of the body.

It was 3803 who broke through the silence.

"I'm not going to tell anyone that you're Cancer… or that you used to be Cancer. But—"

NC held his breath.

"—I don't want to ever come near you again."

Golden eyes looked deep into his lime green eyes.

NC's mouth was wide open seeing her now. She rose to her full height and gently placed all of her mementos back into her pack. In the dying light, NC could barely make out her silhouette, or how her hair was swiftly becoming undone from its tight braid. It was a sight to see her hair, wavy from its previous constraint. She looked down at him and began walking down the bridge and away from NC.

And all NC could see as she walked away from him was:

Red.

Red.

RED.

And then—

NC closed his eyes and let the darkness take over.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In through the nose.

And out in the same way.

Open your eyes.

And then, NC rises from his hunched over position on the bridge and goes back home.

Normal Cell looked up from his game of solitaire, a look of mischief and teasing in his eyes as he looked up at NC. However, that look of mirth swiftly disappeared when he took note of the younger normal cell's face.

Rising from his seat on the floor, Normal Cell tried approaching his charge.

"How'd it go, 1998?"

NC shrugged.

The embroidered handkerchief that lay in his pocket burned like a brand.