Numair is not mine . . . he's Daine's ;D
Chapter 2
Numair felt the flimsy floor of the train carriage rise ever so slightly, as if the weight of something had suddenly landed. He glanced around the cart to see of anyone else had noticed. They hadn't.
The bag lady let out a heart-wrenching wail and began to sob, no tears running down her face. She covered her eyes with her hands and whimpered to herself, words fading in and out of human awareness. "Such a nice little girl . . . so much to do in the . . . oh . . . poor little girl . . ." She continued to sob as the other members of the train looked at each other, wondering what to do.
Numair slowly maneuvered his way to the back of the cart. He felt certain that something was happening outside. Was that footsteps pounding along the tracks or simply the whir of machinery? He leaned against the door, one hand casually resting on the handle. He pressed down and leaned back.
The door swung open. Numair lost his balance and tumbled outside. He sat down hard, landing on something . . . soft, but with a hard center. He looked down and found himself sitting on the woman.
She was sprawled out on the small platform, crushed up against the railing from the speed of the train. Her eye continued to bleed sluggishly. He breathing was shallow, ragged, but with the undertones of someone sleeping, or unconscious.
Numair jumped up and off her. He gently stood her up the way he might a baby: hand under her armpits. He placed one of her arms around his shoulders and held onto her hand. With his other arm around her waist, he walked her inside. The college student had come over to investigate. Numair transferred the woman to the student and went to shut the door.
He reached out to grab the handle. Turning away and pulling the door with him, he caught something with the tail of his eye. Was that a figure running along the tracks? Numair leaned out, squinting. The train turned a corner and Numair found himself staring at a wall. Shaking his head at his own folly, he shut the door.
The bag lady had stopped screeching at the sight of the bloodied, bruised lady in the cart. On the contrary, she was now cackling gleefully, muttering to herself, eyes shining.
The college student had laid down the lady on the aisle. She beckoned Numair over and had him sit Lotus-position, with the patient's head in his lap.
She set about checking her for major injuries. Numair stared at her until she looked up.
"Mm? Yes?"
"Are you a doctor?"
"Not yet. I'm just training still. Look, will you calm her down? Even unconscious, she's still all tensed up."
"Uh, sure. What exactly should I be doing?"
"Stroke her hair; make some peaceful, relaxing sounds, like such." She crooned gently, a low, soft hum.
Numair did just that, wary to stay away from the injured side of the lady's head. He felt her relax, and the doctor's encouraging smile directed his way. She finished her evaluation and pushed herself into a crouch.
"It's worse than it looks. Unless you're family," Numair shook his head. "Or a significant other," Another headshake. "Then I'm not liable to release any information on her condition. She'll definitely need to go to the hospital. According to her hand," The doctor picked up the limp right hand and showed Numair the spidery writing on the back "She's headed over to L'espoir Perdu." She lowered her voice. Numair bent close to hear. "Think anyone else is going that way? And I don't want to just dump her off on some . . ." she glanced around the cart, eyes resting on the bag lady.
Numair nodded slightly. The whole exchange between them seemed secret, for some unknown reason. He went along with it. "I'm headed there myself."
The doctor looked infinitely relieved. "Thank the lord. Listen, I've no idea what the situation is, but if there's any problem, you know, with hospital bills or something, just call me." She grabbed his hand and wrote her number on the back. Smiling at him, she stood up. She began to walk back to her seat, hips moving in a hypnotic sway. She paused and rotated slightly, looking at Numair, the curve of her breasts easily visible and accented. "On second thought, why don't you just call me?" She flashed him a white grin against her dark skin and strolled to her seat.
Numair thought that the scene was pretty smooth on the doctor's part, until he remembered the woman lying on the floor. Anyway, the doctor was not his kind of woman. He assisted the unconscious lady up, and walked her over, placing her gently in the seat next to his.
A few hours later, the setting moon saw Numair leave the local hospital. He looked dark, threatening in the partial light, but anyone who knew him, or who dared to get close enough could plainly see the ache of loneliness, pain and longing in his deep, thoughtful eyes.
The phone jangled and Numair jumped to his feet. Embarrassed at his eagerness, he walked into the kitchen at got a glass of water. He sat down on the counter stools and sipped the frosty beverage as he counted out one . . . two more rings. Then, as casually and as indifferently as you please, he strolled over and picked up the phone.
"Hullo?"
"Master Salmalin? This is Nurse Betty, from the Hope Hospital?"
"Oh, yes,"
"We need you to come over and sign some forms."
"Wait! See, the thing is –" But the nurse had already hung up.
Numair sighed and sat down, head resting on the counter. Last night he had told a story of visiting a friend only to find her in such a condition. He now knew what a "web of lies" was, and he was dreadfully stuck in the middle of one. He could go over and tell the truth, but then he may be seen as a threatening figure, perhaps the blame for the lady's condition would be placed upon him. Or he could go over in hopes that the woman was now awake and could help him fill out the forms. Clearly, though, she was not, or else the nurse would have had her fill out the forms herself. He sighed again. Was life ever simple?
His mind was already made up. He'd go over and if she was not awake, would leave remembering an "important" appointment that could not be avoided. Pulling on his coat and beanie, he locked his door.
Numair hitched a trolley over to the hospital. The ride was uneventful, apart form his almost falling asleep from the gentle jostling, the effect of a sleepless night. His eyelids drooped and shut only to snap open, over and over. He heard a squeal of brakes, but it took a long time for it to register in his brain that perhaps this was his stop. Nearly too late, he jumped up and nimbly of, stumbling a bit as he landed.
Numair waited patiently outside room 415 in the "intensive care" wing. He had peered in moments earlier only to find a nurse bustling around. Unsure of what to do, he hovered awkwardly outside until the nurse exited.
"Excuse me?" she turned her gaze on him. "I was asked to sign some forms on account of my, uh, my friend . . . in there." He gestured with his thumb towards the room.
"Oh yes, right this way sir." She lead him up to a desk and, after a few whispered words with a rather ferocious looking nurse, handed Numair some forms attached to a clipboard. He walked back to room 415 and sat in a chair placed beside the patient's bed. Perhaps it was the clockwork way the hospital worked, or maybe the boring forms but combined with the previous sleepless night, Numair soon fell asleep.
Numair felt someone looking at him. Pretending to sleep, he shifted position and cracked one eyelid open. The woman on the hospital bed was looking at him. She stretched, yawning loudly. Numair took his cue and shook himself "awake." Their eyes met for a brief moment, and quickly looked away.
"Hey,"
She glanced at him, acknowledging his presence.
"Um, I was on this train last night, and then you came one it too. You were pretty injured, so I took you to this hospital. I was heading in that direction, see. So this morning the nurse called me so I could come over and fill out some forms. I told her that you were a friend and I went to visited you last night and saw you were injured." Numair paused, knowing the tale jumped all over the place.
"Thanks," she replied in a barely audible whisper, eyes cast down in embarrassment.
"Could you, ah, help me fill out these forms?"
"Sure,"
Together, they worked quietly for a quarter of an hour, hunched over the papers.
"Veralidaine –"
"Daine, please,"
"Next is how you got injured, Daine,"
She looked down and her sheets, embarrassed.
"Daine?"
"Yes?"
"How did you get injured? I was there, I saw it, but the hospital will want to know why what happened did,"
She mumbled something.
"What was that?"
"I don't remember,"
"Okay, well. You were rushing to get on the train and these men were following you. When they caught up, they began to beat you. Guards rushed over and tried to help you. You managed to break away and ran for the train. You jumped for it and landed on the back platform. By the time I found you out there, you weren't conscious. A young doctor cleaned you up a bit then I took you to this hospital."
She was staring it him. "That didn't happen. It couldn't have." She sounded lost.
Numair didn't know what to do. Perhaps she had been hit too hard. Maybe it was too much blood loss. Maybe she didn't want to remember. He looked at his hands helplessly for a moment. Daine gasped. His sight was on her now.
She fell back against the pillow, body twitching. He eyes were wide and vacant. He stood up fast, clipboard falling with a clatter to the linoleum. She gasped again, then turned her haunted look on Numair.
"Numair," she said in a voice like hers, but with a tinge of something . . . something Numair could not find a name for. "Listen to me. I don't think there will be another relapse of my memory, so what I have to say is vital." Her body convulsed once more. She reached out shaking hands and grabbed his. "They're here. I need to leave you now. What you need will come to you. Use it wisely," With that, Daine convulsed once more and fell back against her pillow.
On top of cloud 9 – Thanks for being the first reviewer!
warrior of tortall – Thank you! I admit, that thing about the oneshot was a (failed) attempt to get more reviews.
SpectralLady – Thanks for commenting!
Imshi – My Charred Pages at the Sunshine Cafe? Or my Conflicting Hues of the Broken Souls? Either way, thanks for the compliment!