16
The night passes without nightmares. At least, none that I can remember. While I feel more rested, I don't feel more energetic, but at least the fatigue isn't clouding my mind as badly. The world around me remains isolated from me behind a glass wall, clearly visible, but meaningless and untouchable.
The sky outside isn't quite sunlit just yet, so it's at least just before dawn. Letting go a heavy, tired sigh, I get myself out of bed and go about getting a shower. It's still awkward and cumbersome to try and wash myself with only one arm, but I manage to make use of the stump of my left to help out a bit more. After getting out and dried off, I make use of the mirror that's been set at my level to shave with.
Being robbed of motivation to even see the point in bothering with much of life leaves me to go through the motions mechanically. It's by rote practice that I get through brushing my teeth, then shaving. When I'm done, I pause, looking over the grayish-looking face that's visible. With dark circles around the eyes, it's an unsmiling, tired looking face.
The rush of thoughts pours through my mind; 'Why am I even bothering with all this? What's the point? I am so very tired. It's a waste of time. I'm wasting everyone's time here. What good am I even being here, besides taking up space-?' and on and on and on. An unending march of despair that feels like it'll go on forever. It's as if each day is a prison cell, and when night comes, I'll just be transferred to another prison cell, never to be free.
As if in slow motion, I watch the muscles in my jaw tighten as a surge of anger boils up. My hand clenches tightly around the electric razor I'm still holding, and the impulse to smash it into that face in the mirror nearly blanks out my vision.
A thought flashes through my head, 'The razor Alita bought me.'
My hand stops, arm halfway through the motion. I sit there for a second, as the anger suddenly drains away, and I relax my grip on the razor. Reminding myself that this razor was given to me by someone who spent the time and energy to help me, serves to cool my anger. It also allows me the time to realize that I was just about to destroy Ido's mirror, another sin that I'd be committing against people who've done so much to help me. The anger drains away, and I let my arm fall to the armrest of my wheelchair.
That voice in my head that spouts the constant stream of self-directed insults and denigrations drones on, and I turn away from the mirror. "Shut. The fuck. Up," I mutter deliberately, closing my eyes and slowly shaking my head. The stream of noise quiets, if only for a moment.
Then I take a deep breath, get dressed and head out to deal with the day to come.
Today isn't particularly busy, so even with Gerhad's absence, things don't go too badly. However, I am called upon to assist Ido rather frequently, an experience I find to be nerve-wracking. The specter of failing, of screwing up so badly that I somehow damage doctor Ido's practice and possibly his reputation, hounds me every time I assist him with a patient. If I were in a more rational state of mind, the idea that I alone could somehow bring down something that Ido spent years building would be laughable. As it is, I am not in a rational state of mind, and the medication alone isn't enough to change that. I do my best to focus on each individual task, trying to get through each hour without everything going sideways on me and as a result, failing Ido.
Due to the numerous preparations she and her team must see to before tonight's game, Alita is absent for pretty much the entire day. According to Ido, she would likely be helping to fill in for Gerhad, otherwise. For that reason alone, I find myself wishing Alita were here right now.
The slow, but steady stream of patients drops off towards evening, before finally stopping altogether about an hour or so before closing. Seeing the empty waiting room, Ido decides to close up early. We clean up and calls Koyomi for a ride.
"Normally, I'd just take a taxi," Ido explains as we wait for Koyomi's arrival. "However..." he gestures in my general direction.
Glancing down at my wheelchair, I fill in, "Yeah. I ain't exactly gonna fit in a taxi, am I?" I have yet to see any kind of taxi, or even a non-cargo vehicle in general, that's more than a glorified golf cart.
Ido grunts and nods as he pulls on a light jacket. Then he helps me into my field jacket and steps back to look me over appraisingly.
"That jacket's rather heavy for this weather," he observes. "Does it make you feel more comfortable, more secure?"
"Yeah, I guess it does," I say, making some minor adjustments to better settle the jacket.
Pursing his lips and nodding, Ido says, "Well, if it helps you feel less exposed, then I have something that may help a bit."
He heads off briefly, returning with a broad-brimmed hat, similar to the one he wore on our trip out to the Badlands.
"Here," he hands me the hat. "Having something to cover your head may help put you at ease."
"Uh, thank you," I reply hesitantly, surprised at his thoughtfulness.
Putting the hat on, I adjust it, catching sight of myself in the reflection of an inactive display screen. The sight puts me in mind of Indiana Jones. Well, more or less.
Ido reaches out and makes a very slight adjustment to the hat, "Gerhad and Alita bought this one for me. It was supposed to replace my old one, but I'm just too attached to it." He steps back and tilts his head slightly to one side, "This one looks good on you. You can keep it, if you like."
I can't help but smile a little at that, "Thanks." Though I stopped wearing them for the most part, I've always liked hats, especially this style of hat. I go to say more than a mere 'thanks', wanting to say something more, but no words will form.
Before long, we see Koyomi's van pull up outside the glass doors. Ido and I go out to meet her, with Ido pausing to lock up as we exit the building.
Koyomi climbs out of the drivers seat and waves at us with a smile, "Hi, guys."
Ido returns her greeting just as cheerfully, while I manage a small wave and what I hope is an approximation of a smile. My stomach starts doing little flip-flops. This is the part I've been dreading; heading out to the arena. The two of them go around to the back of the van, open it up, and pull out a ramp, setting it up for use. Ido gestures me over and I make my way to them, to then make my way up the shallow incline of the ramp into the back of the van. All the while, my new hat is pulled down low and I try my best to ignore the stares of the passersby.
Ido pulls the ramp in after himself and the two of us settle in. He knocks twice on the forward wall, and the van gently lurches into motion. As we travel, I begin to experience a vague sense of confusion, as if my brain is saying 'weren't we just doing something else a moment ago? How did I get here?' It's a sensation I've experienced on occasion over the years, and it often leaves me feeling unsettled in an otherwise perfectly normal situation.
Unfortunately, that's not the worst problem I'm left dealing with. As we get closer to the arena, it becomes increasingly difficult not to focus on the fact that there are going to be very large, very dangerous cyborgs that I will likely be in close proximity to. Memories come to me of a thick, powerfully-built cyberarm coming up at blinding speed to deliver a backhand blow to the right side of my head. 'The world spins around and I'm face-down on the pavement, blood streaming from the tip of my nose. I can't see out of my right eye anymore. Then the crunching of bone as something powerful and heavy impacts the back of my knee, sending white-hot agony shooting through me.'
My mind is pulled away from those thoughts when Ido asks, "Holding up alright?"
With a nod I reply, "Yeah."
"I admit we were caught a little off-guard by your reaction to Alondra's death." Ido's gaze goes unfocused as he stares off into the distance for a second, "She was a good person."
Frowning heavily, I nod, "Yeah, I gathered that. Even with the short talk we had, I found her really likeable." My gaze sinks to the floor of the van, "My reaction caught me off-guard, too. I didn't expect my depression to kick up so badly, so quickly." My jaw tightens as I fight for something more meaningful to say, and fail.
"Do you blame yourself for what happened, in some way?"
A moment's pause as I draw in a deep breath and let it out through my nose. "Yeah, I suppose I do."
"You shouldn't," Ido says firmly. "There certainly wasn't anything you could do."
His reassuring words sound like lies to my ears. Lowering my head slightly, I hide my eyes behind the brim of the hat. We sit in silence, rocked by the gentle swaying of the van as it travels Iron City's badly maintained roads. Anger get's the better of me.
"I've been there," I state flatly. Looking up at him, I narrow my eyes just a little, "Been so close to suicide, I was inches away from doing it, more than once." An angry growl creeps into my voice, "I knew what to look for, but I was so fucking blinded by my own problems that I missed the signs." I want to add more, about how I let a good person die, but emotion chokes off my voice. Probably just as well.
Another stretch of silence, then Ido says quietly, his voice low and intense, "I don't really think there was much you could have done, even if you had realized what she was about to do."
Lowering my head again, I hide behind the brim of the hat to conceal the tears I try to squeeze away. I no longer have any interest in talking about it. The only other sound Ido makes is a quiet, lengthy sigh of what sounds like resignation.
Meanwhile, my anxiety continues to mount. I feel like I might be physically sick. I keep my head down, hiding behind the brim of the hat Ido gave me. I take long, slow breaths trying to keep my anxiety from overtaking me. As best I can, I focus on just keeping myself as far away from those memories of the attack as possible. I focus on the fabric of my jeans, the feel of my thumb running over the tips of my fingers, anything to keep me anchored to right here and right now. It also helps to calm emotions stirred up by the talk about Alondra.
The van slows to a stop, then Ido quickly gets the rear doors open and pulls the ramp out. He waves me forward and I carefully drive down it. Once I'm down, Ido slides the ramp back into the van and closes the rear doors.
Sticking her head and one arm out the window, Koyomi bids us a cheerful farewell. Ido and I wave good-bye as she drives off.
Turning to Ido, I ask, "Is she not able to join us?" Being a friend of Alita, I'd have figured Koyomi would have access to the Pit area.
Ido shakes his head, "She does on occassion, but tonight she has some friends she'll be joining in the stands." He sets off walking towards what looks like a service entrance.
Following after him, I take a surreptitious look around. There's not a lot of foot traffic, but there is the movement of boxes and crates in and out of the large service entrance that's big enough to drive two semi trucks through side by side. Next to it is a smaller door for personnel. People in what look like uniforms are going about their business, no doubt arena employees. A number of full cyborgs with heavy duty bodies obviously meant for moving large cargo are also evident. A few of the various employees send obvious glances towards me. A couple of them stare openly.
We head through the personnel door and he leads me through a maze of wide corridors. Though it's not crowded, there's a steady stream of people through the hallways. A number of them outright stare at the limbless guy in the wheelchair. I keep my eye firmly on Ido as I follow him, feeling exposed and uneasy. Eventually we get to a locker room. At least, that's what one of the signs out in the hallway seems to indicate. It's certainly not like any locker room I've ever seen before.
While one half of it appears very similar to any locker room you might see in a sports stadium, the other half is larger but filled with stalls containing machinery that I'm guessing are for transferring a player's cybercore into the often huge and sometimes monstrous-looking bodies used on the motorball track. Of the ten stalls that are visible, only one is open and even though I can't quite see into it, there's obvious signs of the robotic arms and other machines contained within. From that, I can guess that the other nine are much the same.
In the locker half of the room is a small gathering of people. Several of them are in powerfully built Motorball bodies, towering over two other individuals. The two regular-sized individuals have some obvious cyberware and matching jumpsuits with purple and grey trim.
Ido greets them and the gathering greets him in return with varying levels of enthusiasm. All of the paladins have at least half their armor painted purple.
One of the paladins, standing at only a little under seven feet tall, with a more slender build says to Ido, "Hi, Doc! You're early, Alita's not even ready yet." The face is hidden behind a helmet but the voice is that of a young woman.
Ido shrugs lightly. "There weren't any patients this evening and it didn't look like any were going to be showing up, so we closed a little early." He turns to gesture toward me. "This is Jason, the guest I told you about."
A few of them say 'hello' but for the most part they quietly nod their greetings. I quietly wave back at them. The sight and sounds of heavy machine bodies puts my teeth on edge and makes my muscles involuntarily tense up. On some level, I keep expecting one of them to take a swing at me.
Ido gestures to each one in turn, starting with the one who mentioned Alita, and introduces them. "This is Saza." He then indicates a young man with asian features and angular armor holding headgear reminiscent of a samurai helmet, "This is Takata." He moves on to two others with similar-looking, medium body designs, "Roberto and Banick." Then he gestures to the last two paladins with heavy-duty builds and designs like something out of a military sci-fi movie, "RJ and Roman." Of those introduced only Saza is wearing a helmet currently.
Roman nods again to me, "Pleased to meet ya, Jason."
I return the nod, saying nothing as my brain stumbles and trips over a perfectly normal greeting.
One of the people wearing a jumpsuit takes a half-step forward. Both of his arms are obviously cybernetic and under the dark purple baseball-style cap it's easy to see that, from his nose up, most of his head is artificial. Probably some form of reconstructive surgery. With a rather gruff manner, he says, "I'm Malcolm, the lead mechanic." He gestures to the other person, a woman wearing the same style jumpsuit with the right side of her head (including the eye and ear) having been replaced with cybernetics, "This is Jen."
Jen and I exchange abbreviated greetings.
Malcolm returns his attention to me with a stern expression. "I don't mind you bein' down in the pit but keep out of the way, got it?" He shoots an annoyed glance at Ido.
I'm about to answer when I hear Alita behind me.
"He's not going to be any trouble, Mal."
I turn to look over my left shoulder to see Alita in her sleek motorball body, colored metallic purple with silver trim, coming out of the open stall along with a man wearing a jumpsuit identical to the two other mechanics. A heavy, armored-looking door slides out of the ceiling and locks in place over the stall Alita just emerged from, no doubt securing her regular body still inside, where it will await her return.
Malcolm grunts in response, "Maybe so, but I don't need gawkers gettin' underfoot while I'm trying to get my team back on the track."
Alita glides over on the motorized in-line wheels that her current body's equipped with and stops beside me, "He's not here to be a 'gawker'. He's only here because Ido needs to keep an eye on his patient for now."
She looks down at me with a smile and puts a hand on my shoulder. "How're you doing?"
The warmth of her smile and the concern in her voice seems to transform what would have been anxiety-inducing into the reassuring gesture I'm sure she meant it to be. In that moment her presence becomes a welcome relief, and I actually feel a bit safer for her being there.
I manage to relax enough that I'm able to summon a faint smile. "Well enough, I guess. Looks like I'll finally get to see you in action."
"You've never seen her play?" Roman almost sounds offended at the idea.
I offer a half-hearted shrug. "Aside from snippets on a view screen, not really, no."
Looking around, it seems like just about everyone there seem surprised to learn that. Malcolm's expression seems to indicate that I've just dropped a peg or two in his already-low estimation of me. Inwardly, I find myself bristling at the look he gives me.
Alita gestures to the young man who emerged from the stall with her, "Oh, and this is Lucas, Malcolm's other mechanic."
Lucas and I exchange brief greetings.
After that, I sit aside as the lot of them go over some possible tactics and details about the opposing players that they'll likely be dealing with during the course of tonight's game. Some of Alita's teammates glance in my direction but I pretend not to notice.
Malcolm brings the pre-game meeting to an end. "Alright, we gotta get goin'! Lucas, grab that other box of parts." He points to a small plastic crate sitting on a nearby bench next to another such crate.
Lucas lightly claps Alita on the shoulder. "See you out there."
Alita gives him a nod as he heads off to help Eddie.
As everyone starts filtering out of the locker room, a few of Alita's teammates glance back at me. I overhear Roberto quietly ask, "So, if doc Ido's his physician, why's that guy in a wheelchair?"
Roman, the paladin next to him shrugs, "I think Alita was saying something about a neurological condition."
As they head out of sight through the large entry to the arena, Saza's voice drifts back to me, "Hey, isn't he that guy that got torn apart by some junkie over in Ido's neighborhood?" Then they're out of view.
As unexpectedly as a flash of lightning, I feel like I've been hit in the gut. There's this shocking feeling like my face is buried in ice. The breath goes out of me and I'm overcome by anger mixed with a sickening fear. My vision fades out and I lock up physically and mentally as I fight the impulses to either flee that place or give in to raging violence. Alongside all of that is this conviction that I am notgoing out into that arena.
My sight clears up as I feel Alita squeeze my shoulder. "Hey! Jason, are you alright?"
I look over and can see her crouched down looking a little alarmed. Behind her, Ido is also looking somewhat worried. I realize that my body is tensed up so tightly that my muscles are trembling. My hand is gripping the armrest so hard that my fingers hurt. I'm suddenly seized by this feeling, like I'm going to vomit. An unexpected rage whips through me and I feel an almost overwhelming urge to physically push her away and scream at her not to touch me.
I'm stopped both by a fear of that sudden onslaught of rage and by the fact that my muscles are so tensed up that I can hardly move, let alone speak. To help fight that impulse, I close my eyes and force breath into my lungs. When I let it out, I feel a solid wave of nausea hit me.
Through clenched teeth I say, "I think I'm gonna throw up."
Ido gestures to Alita. "Get him into the restroom."
She wastes no time in pushing me quickly through a smaller side door that leads into the toilet and shower area, faster than the 'chair's electric motor would have managed.
Feeling the gorge rising in the back of my throat, I slide off my wheelchair as soon as I'm close to one of the toilets and manage to get my head over the bowl just as the contents of my stomach are painfully and forcefully expelled into it. The effort of doing so causes my eyes to tear up. Awkwardly, I manage to get my glasses off so as to avoid the risk of them falling into the pool of vomit. The blood pounding in my ears, as well as the sounds of retching, render the words I hear Ido and Alita exchange behind me unintelligible.
When it finally dies down a bit I hear Ido say, "They don't immediately need me, I've got him."
When there's no reply, I assume she's left. I have to wonder if she's disappointed at my loss of control. I wonder why I should care what she thinks.
Ido appears out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the stall door.
I heave up the last of my guts and fall back against the side of the stall, panting and shaking. I wipe away the last traces of vomit, then take off the hat Ido gave me and set it on my lap. While the nausea has faded, there's still this sickening feeling, like when everything feels unreal but worse. The surface of my body feels numb all over. I look up at Ido, not quite glaring at him. I still feel some anger, but it's as if I vomitted out the rage that was boiling inside.
His expression conveys only a calm, professional concern. "Are you going to be alright?"
I feel a startlingly strong urge to laugh humorlessly in his face. Instead, I nod, "I think so." I realize I'm hugging myself. Despite the warm temperatures and my field jacket, I feel chilled and I'm shivering.
Ido sighs softly in what sounds like irritation. "Perhaps I should call Koyomi, have her take you back to the clinic. It seems that bringing you here was indeed a mistake."
A voice inside me is practically screaming, 'God yes! Get me the hell out of here!' But something else in me rebels at the idea. As much as I didn't want to come here in the first place, some part of me is stubbornly insisting that I stay and see this through. I suppose that after having fought through this far, I'm not giving up now.
I shake my head. "No, I'm good."
His eyebrows descend over his eyes as he looks at me with stern disbelief. "You don't look good. And that," he gestures at the toilet I just had my face over, "certainly isn't a good sign."
I fight back a sudden onslaught of sobbing, shaking my head violently. "No!" I growl loudly, trying to maintain control, "I can do it!" Silent sobs begin shaking me as I'm unable to hold back the tears.
Ido merely nods, looking very concerned now. "Alright, alright. Just take a moment then."
Distantly, I'm relieved. There was some certainty that when the tears started he was going to call for me to be taken away, back to the clinic. I sit there in that bathroom stall in a locker room in the Motorball arena and do what I can to let all the anger and pain out, hoping to quickly regain control. At first I can't understand where all this is coming from. It seemed like I was getting a handle on things.
"You're certain you want to stay?" Ido asks.
Thinking about it for a moment, figuring I'd better be sure about this as I grab for some tissue paper to clean myself up with, I make my decision.
After cleaning myself up a bit, I toss the ball of tissue into the toilet and nod, "Yeah, I'll stay." Somehow, leaving now would feel like surrender, like losing, and I hate losing.
"Alright then." Ido picks up the hat and places it back on my head. "Let's get out there. I've already ignored two calls that are no doubt from Malcolm wondering where the hell I am."
Ido helps me back into the wheelchair and then helps me get some water to rinse the vomit out of my mouth. Then it's back to the locker room and out the same way the others left through. About halfway down, Ido directs me down a side passage with a downward slope.
"Going straight out will take us to the track, we don't want to go there. This way comes out at the pit area."
We pass through the brightly lit concrete tunnel and sure enough, we emerge into the middle of the huge arena. Coming out of the tunnel is almost like being pummeled in the face, the sound of the crowds in the stands hitting me even this far from them. I can feel the noise vibrating in my chest. Punctuating this is the voice of the announcer, calling out commentary. Ahead of us is the pit area.
The pit area is built around the base of a huge central tower. At the top of the tower is a circular glass observation deck of rather large proportions. The pit area is split into separate stalls divided by low walls and each one wide enough that I could have almost parked two of my pickup truck in it side by side. From what I've seen, they actually need all that space with how big some of the bodies used by the players can be. I recall seeing at least one paladin who'se body looked to about as big as my truck. There are more than enough stalls for the players of both teams so each one is marked with a narrow, color-coded banner showing the name and number of the player that a specific stall is reserved for.
Around that is an area of flat concrete with markings delineating the appropriate lanes for paladins that come in off the main track. I notice that the game is already underway, having only just started.
I look up at Ido. "Sorry about making you miss the beginning of the game."
He just shrugs and smiles, "It's quite alright. The main thing is making sure Alita can stay in once the race is started. Besides, I'm your doctor before I'm a Tuner."
As we approach the section of the pit holding the maintenance bays for Alita's team, I consider what happened in the locker room's restroom. "I was a little busy heaving my guts up, so I didn't really hear everything. She wasn't too angry about me disrupting the start of her game, was she?"
Ido looks down at me with faint surprise, and says with a disbelieving laugh, "Not at all." He shakes his head slightly. "I think you give her too little credit, Jason. She wasn't upset about that, she was worried about you. I practically had to push her out the door so she wouldn't miss the start of the game."
"Oh." I know he's exaggerating, at least a little bit, but it's a reassuring feeling to know that I'm not viewed as a nuisance. At least, not yet. I can't shake the feeling that I'm pushing my luck somehow, as if one more meltdown will see them losing all patience with me. And then... well, I try not to think about that.
As we near the maintenance bays where Alita's team is operating out of, Malcolm comes out to meet us with an angry scowl.
His calm tone is at odds with his expression. "Tried to call you a couple times. Everything alright, Doc?"
We come to a stop and Ido answers, "I'm sorry about that. We had a minor medical emergency." He turns toward the enormous expanse of winding track that surrounds us. "Everyone get off the starting line okay?"
Malcolm shoots a brief glare in my direction, "Starting line went smooth. Now we'll see how well those fancy modifications you made to the team hold up."
The chief mechanic obviously thinks my presence is disruptive and in my current mood, I can't say I blame him. I tip my head forward a bit, lowering the brim of my hat in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.
The two of them begin discussing the modifications that Malcolm referred to, specifiaclly alterations to the team's motive gear and weapons. I decide my presence is unnecessary and quietly roll away to park myself at the very edge of the maintenance bay for Alita (hers being the only familiar name), staying close but as much out of the way as I can. I sit there for a while watching as the match unfolds. I can't follow everything that's happening due to my ignorance of the rules, so I settle for watching the two teams go at each other over the ball on giant view screens placed strategically around the area.
I feel like an observer, watching everything through someone else's eyes. I'm surrounded by that insulated feeling. There's a constant level of anger that just doesn't seem to go away. Watching the players of both teams zip around this gigantic, twisting track I keep getting little snapshots of the attack I was subjected to, flashing through my head. I just want it to go away and it won't. It's like so much else in my life now, I don't seem to have any control over it.
I sit there feeling miserable and disconnected from the world around me, when a thought occurs to me; that feeling of control was always an illusion. There is so much outside of ourselves that we have absolutely no control over. The only thing I can control, to some degree at least, is me. That was one of the main things I had drilled into me over the years as a Christian. You only really have dominion over yourself. Everything else, you might be able to influence or temporarily direct in some way but in the end, it's only your own choices that you have any real control of. Even then, you may have far less choice than you'd like.
Choosing to try and stop that man from being murdered cost me my limbs and eye, and I have to accept that. I could have chosen to turn my back on him like everyone around me was doing, but I didn't. When I chose to become a soldier, I accepted that I might very well have to lay down my life in order to fulfill the service it entailed. When I chose to become a Christian, I accepted that there were risks in following that path as well.
Something that so many others who claim to be Christians seem to overlook is that the path of Christ comes with a warning label; 'You will be hated for my name's sake', is one of those warnings. Basically, I think it boils down to, 'follow in my path and suffer, but persevere and be eternally rewarded'.
Quite a few such details, like that warning, seem to get overlooked. Considering how many people seem to overlook such things, I long ago came to the conclusion that one of the main skills required for being a good Christian is basic reading comprehension. Granted, I am by no means entirely innocent of forgetting or turning a blind eye to something that I probably shouldn't have.
Motion on one of the giant viewscreens draws my eye. Alita zig zags across the track in front of a member of the opposing team, running interference for her own teammate who's carrying the ball. She goes down low under the pick-axe-like weapon the opposing cyborg swings at her. As she zips past, she puts her left arm up in front of her, which currently has her sword clipped into a mounting that holds it in a reverse position with the point extending out past her elbow, and slices into his knee. As she speeds away, her opponent loses his balance and tumbles down the track, his damaged leg separating at the knee and spinning off out of view.
Details of Alita's conflict with the killer Grewishka float through my mind, 'When she and Ido were threatened by that monster, she chose to take the fight to him. That choice cost her a body and nearly her life.'
Whether it was service to my country or service to God, in both cases I chose to accept risks up to and including possible death. Part of why I chose to follow those paths is because I wanted to try and make the world a better place in some way. If it was true before I ended up here, should it be any less true now? As Alita pointed out, I saved that man's life. It was my duty as a Christian and a soldier and it was a duty that I entered into willingly. Facing the aftermath of that choice will likely be made harder due to my mental illness but I can make the choice to trust in my new friends to help me through it.
Almost as if on cue, that voice in the dark part of my mind whispers at me, 'And if they should turn on you? If they should let you down?'
With grim determination, I answer, 'Then I'll burn that bridge if I come to it.'
My ruminations are interrupted as Ido walks up beside me.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
"A little, I suppose." I glance up at the view screens, now showing the players approaching positions where we'll be able to see them ourselves. "Mostly thinking."
Ido puts his hands in his pockets and nods. "Mind if I ask what about?"
I take a steadying breath and look around to see if things are about to get busy, but for the most part the pit crew is just making some last-minute adjustments here and there. "Just thinking about a lot of things. The attack, what kind of future I can look forward to, why I'm struggling so much with... everything." I shrug, at a loss for how to articulate it all.
For a moment, Ido is quiet as we watch the two teams race past our vantage point. "Are you worried your little breakdowns are going to make you unwelcome?"
I can't help but be impressed with his perceptiveness. "Somethin' like that." Years of hiding my problems from even close friends makes me hesitant to answer.
"Well, it hasn't been anything I wasn't expecting to one degree or another. You haven't been violent, or anything of the sort, so I've tried to make it clear that you're in no danger of ending up on the street." He crosses his arms over his chest. "It's going to be up to you to believe it, however."
I nod, "Yeah. It's just, when I think I might finally be doing that, it's like the ground crumbles out from under me." I exhale sharply in frustration. "I just keep thinking..." I shake my head as my mind tries to close up, "I just keep thinking that I'm wrong, that I'm somehow imagining it." I again shake my head in frustration, "Stupid, I know."
Ido's silent for a moment, then he just nods. He opens his mouth to say something when he's interrupted by Malcolm.
"Ido! Alita's coming in."
Ido looks over at him with an alert intensity, "What for?"
"Weapons malfunction."
Ido looks back at me, "Sorry, Jason."
I wave him off. "Duty calls."
He smiles and nods before going over to exchange some words with Malcolm. Then he heads past me into Alita's stall and walks over to a hefty looking tool-chest style box. He unlocks it, opens it and begins going through the contents, carefully shifting items around.
He glances up at me and motions me over. Curious, I head over to him and he motions me to park next to the steel table the tool-chest is sitting on.
"I rigged up a copy of the plasma emitters in Alita's berserker body for her motorball body. It allows her to sheath her sword in plasma. Sounds like it's acting up."
"Yeah, she was telling me about that. Does it give you a lot of trouble?"
Smiling wryly, he nods, "More than I'd like it to, yes. I did what I could, but..." he shakes his head, sounding mildly frustrated. "Still, it works. Would have been nice if I could have copied over a couple of other systems as well."
Momentarily forgetting everything else, I ask, "Like that nano-tech self-repair system?"
He glances at me with raised eyebrows, "Oh, she told you about that, did she?"
Feeling as if I just slipped up again, I ask, "Was she not supposed to?"
"Oh, nothing like that. It's just not something she's all that open about." He gives me an appraising look, "You know, a number of people have said that you're pretty easy to talk to."
"Really?" My eyes dart around a bit as I self-consciously try find an appropriate response to that.
Ido looks like he's about to say more, when he glances past me. "Ah, here she comes."
From the bay next to us, Lucas calls over, "Ido! Takata's comin' in too, and he might need me an' Jen. Malcom's busy. You gonna be alright by yourself?"
"I should be fine," Ido calls back as Alita rolls into her bay, removing her helmet.
She locks her wheels, effectively turning her rollers into narrow feet as she gracefully steps into the little maintenance stand against the back wall, her sword still stowed in the mounting on her left forearm.
She hangs her helmet on a nearby hook and spares a smile for me. I smile and nod in return, then sit back and try to keep out of the way.
"That damned emitter's out again," she complains. "This is the third time this week, including practice matches."
Ido nods. "Well, it's still experimental. You should be thankful I was even able to replicate it at all, considering how advanced it is." Muttering quietly enough that I can barely make it out, he adds, "It's a miracle I was even able to get the system to integrate with Earth tech." He quickly and deftly removes the forearm plates on her right arm while asking, "Anything else?"
"Left thigh plate's cracked. Otherwise I'm fine," she responds with a nod towards the indicated body part. The thigh plate in question has a rather nasty hole in it that's left visible cracks in the armor.
While Ido goes about fixing whatever the problem is with Alita's plasma weapon and changing out the armor on her leg, he quietly talks with her. Being that I'm a number of meters away and there's still that roaring crowd and yammering announcer, I'm unable to make out any of it.
After a little over a minute, Ido steps back, apparently finished. "Okay, try that."
Alita unclips her sword and holds it in front of her. The blade and her hand are immediately sheathed in blue fire. It's a startling effect and a little alarming, but cool as hell. She nods in satisfaction as the plasma field flickers out and she stows it back under her left forearm. Then she grabs her helmet and, somewhat to my surprise, rolls over to stop in front of me.
She leans in close, puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me intently. "Hey, you're doing great, so stop worrying. We're not going to suddenly cut you loose, alright? If I have to, I'll bounce you down that track so it can sink in while Ido fixes you up again. Got it?" Her stern expression softens as she gives me a faint but sincere smile.
Her unexpected assurance leaves me a little stunned, and a little self-concsious. With a half-hearted effort, I try to suppress an answering smile. "Yes ma'am," is all I can manage as I nod to her.
She gives one firm nod, pats me on the shoulder and puts her helmet back on, her face settling back into that steely-eyed mask of determination she normally wears during games as she rolls off towards the track.
Ido comes over to stand next to me. "A little more convincing?"
I take in a deep breath and release it before answering, in order to calm a surge of emotion at Alita's unexpected display of reassurance. "Uh, yes, yes it was."
He chuckles quietly, "I thought she might have better luck getting through to you. She has that effect on people."
I rub the back of my neck, still feeling a little embarrassed. "Yeah. Guess I'm a little slow at taking hints."
Ido shrugs lightly, "Sometimes these things just need a bit of time to work out." He nods in the direction that Alita raced off in, "As well as a little help."
After that, I still stay off to the side but I find myself feeling a little more at ease. There's still an impulse to shy away from Alita's teammates but staying inside her maintenance bay allows me to feel a little safer.
With her sword sheathed in blue plasma, Alita is able to cut through the competition quickly. As the opposing team ends up spending so much time in the pit for repairs, Alita's team is able to rack up the points quickly by carrying the ball through each of the three red rings spaced around the track. There's bonus points for making a full lap with the ball through all three rings, which Alita and her teammates manage to do on a couple of occasions allowing them to really jack up the score in their favor.
With my attention more and more focused on the action around me, specifically watching Alita as she fights her way through the opposition, I find myself relaxing. Even going so far as to enjoy the game a bit.
During one lap, while Ido's busy a couple bays over, seeing to a troublesome modification of Banick's, a younger looking man approaches me. Wearing casual clothing, he has a small device about the size of a paper-back novel perched on his shoulder, and a lanyard from which hangs what appears to be a laminated press pass. A quick glance around and now I notice that there are a couple more wandering about, talking to anyone not busy, but mostly paladins who are in for quick repairs. Guess they let the press down here after the first lap, or something.
"Hello there," the man says to me, extending a hand.
Rather hesitantly, I take it and give it a firm shake, nodding to him in greeting.
"Name's Alex." Releasing my hand, he gestures to the device on his shoulder, which I now see is a recording device of some kind, "I'm a reporter for the Motorball League." From his tone of voice, he seems to expect that to carry some kind of weight with me. I take note of the fact that the recording device looks to be currently inactive.
Not feeling particularly talkative, especially to someone with a camera, I simply say, "Hi."
Looking unphased by my lack of interest, Alex asks, "Mind if I ask you a few questions? For the viewers."
A surge of annoyance compels me to say, with a deadpan expression, "Ya know, despite the wheels, I'm not actually a Motorball player." I find myself both curious as to why a reporter is talking to me, of all people here, and wishing he'd just go away.
With an obviously insincere laugh, Alex replies, "Oh, I sorta figured. You would be...?"
After briefly toying with the idea of leaving him hanging, I tell him, "Jason." Try as I might, I just can't be that rude to someone who hasn't actually done anything to warrant it.
"Nice to meet you, Jason. I was just wanting to ask some questions, get your point of view on some things." His tone and expression indicate that this guy is obviously not going to go away until he gets something, of that I'm fairly sure.
Tempted to yell for Ido, but not wanting to disturb his work, I answer stiffly, "Ain't got none."
"Oh, I wouldn't be sure about that," Alex presses amiably. "I mean, isn't it true that you're under in-patient care from doctor Ido there?" he gestures in Ido's direction. "Which means you're also living under the same roof with the Battle Angel, Alita," he says it with an almost grandiose tone at the end, using one of Alita's Motorball nicknames. "Surely, you've got at least a little something of interest to share? Favorite food, where she likes to hang out, music she likes listening to...?"
Since staying with Ido and Alita, I've learned that they both tend to be fairly private individuals. I also remember at least one bit of footage that Loretta showed me, featuring an almost enraged Alita threatening to carve out the camera-optic of a reporter who unwisely asked whether she had a new boyfriend. This was some months ago, towards the start of her career, likely when the pain of her loss was probably fresher.
So, instead of going directly to Ido or Alita, this guy's gonna try and sneak in through me. This engenders a certain level of anger. Particularly when I recall Alita's comment about an underhanded reporter causing her trouble.
Unsure of what to say exactly, I merely shrug while trying to maintain a stonefaced expression.
No doubt failing to get the hint on purpose, Alex plows on, changing up the subject a bit, "How 'bout yourself? I couldn't help but notice that you didn't look too happy to be here, earlier."
With my best monotone, I respond, "Not particularly."
Alex nods, looking intensely interested, "Has it been difficult living with doctor Ido and Alita? Has there been some friction that's made life there unpleasant?"
My jaw tenses up, but I try to keep a neutral expression, "On the contrary, they've gone out of their way to help me."
"Ah, good to hear," he responds while seeming to take notes on a small data tablet that he was carrying. "I noticed you seem to be enjoying yourself now," he says with a clear note of prompting.
"Starting to," I reply, maintaining the monotone.
"Or maybe it's one particular aspect of the game?" he asks with a suspiciously leading tone.
While I get the distinct impression he's hinting at something, I'm just not clear on what it could be, so I shrug, "I suppose."
"I mean, I couldn't help but notice that you brightened up after a short exchange with the Angel. Could you elaborate on what that might have been? A simple exchange between friends? Something more...?" His tone is one of asking an innocent question, but there's an almost predatory gleam in his eye.
Confusion clouds my judgement, only briefly, but long enough for me to lose track of the vague answer I was going to give, "Uh, I'm not sure what-" Immediately I shut up, realizing that I've let my guard down. I give another vague shrug, inwardly lamenting, 'Too late to pretend I don't speak english. Or any other language he might know.'
His smile, while trying to appear amiable, also strikes me as a bit oily. "Well, I'm just saying, she seemed pretty concerned for you there. Considering she's usually kept a bit of a distance from all but a very few people, it was difficult not to notice." He gives me a meaningful look, "She is an incredible young woman, and rather beautiful. Could it be that maybe the two of you are...?" He gestures vaguely, obviously unwilling to openly elaborate.
Finally seeing what he's getting at, I suppress the sudden urge to laugh out loud and instead keep my face relaxed. "Are the two of us...?" I prompt him innocently, feigning ignorance. The veil of fatigue and depression abruptly lifts and my mind suddenly jumps into overdrive.
Having gotten me more engaged, his smile broadens, "You know, are the two of you-"
"Oh!" I exclaim, interrupting him with an act of dawning realization. "You're wondering if the two of us are...?" I trail off as I once again gesture in vague fashion.
Alex nods, clearly intent on the prospect of getting something juicy to report on the newest rising superstar, then motions for me to continue as he leans in a little closer.
"Yes!" I say confidently. "The two of us are."
His eyebrows go up and he starts to look both surprised and impressed, "Really?" The sincere excitement on his face is almost comical.
I jump in before he can say anything more. "Absolutely," I proclaim with a nod. "Alita and I are both carbon-based forms of life, have been since birth." I look up at him with my best deadpan expression.
It takes all my willpower not to bust out laughing at his sudden change in expression. He is undeniably not amused. He straightens up with a sigh, barely concealing his disappointment.
Still feigning my best innocent appearance, I take the opportunity to expand on my answer. He wanted me to talk? Fine. I'll talk.
Putting on my best lecturing tone, and tossing in a dash of condesension, I go on, "I know it may be difficult to tell, given all the mechanical parts she possesses. You see, Alita is what's called a 'cyborg'. A term derived from the root words 'cybernetic' and 'organism', which refers to any organism which has been cybernetically enhanced." His battle to suppress his annoyance seems to be one he's losing. I quickly go on, determined not to let him get a word in edgewise, "In her case, the organism in question is human, which is a carbon-based form of life originally native to Earth-"
"Alright!" he interrupts impatiently. Gaining a bit more control over himself, he says, "I get it, I know what a cyborg is. Look, pal, I'm just trying to-"
"Hey! You there!" Ido shouts from a couple stalls down, interrupting the nosy reporter. "Stop bothering my patient!" A visibly angered doctor Ido begins storming in our direction.
Holding up his hands, Alex relents, "Okay, okay! I'm going!" To me he says in a heavily miffed tone, "You know, I could have made you the next headliner. Given you your fifteen minutes of fame. Who knows where that could've taken you."
To which I merely shrug, and tip the brim of my hat to him. In response, he shoots me a final dirty look.
Drawn by the commotion, one of Alita's Pit crew, Lucas hurries over. Reaching me before Ido, he calls after the retreating reporter, "Hey, shouldn't you be interviewing the paladins or something?"
Upon arriving, Ido shoots a glare after the reporter's back before asking me, "You alright, Jason?"
Feeling inexplicably giddy, I smile and look up at him, "Yeah, I'm fine." In fact, I'm a little astounded at how good I feel.
"What was that he was talkin' to you about?" Lucas asks with a faintly suspicious tone.
Off-handedly I reply, "He was just asking stupid questions."
Ido narrows his eyes a little, looking at me slightly askance, "What did you tell him?"
"I just gave him stupid answers," I say with a little shrug. Injecting a slight southern twang into my voice, I add in a lazy drawl, "My mama used to say, 'stupid is as stupid does'." Which draws mildly confused looks from both men. But I don't care, that whole exchange with the reporter left me feeling better than I have in days.
"Alright, well, I need to get back to-" Ido finishes the sentence with a sharp gesture back toward the stall he just left.
"Oh, sure thing," I say, waving him off.
Ido nods and briskly walks off, but Lucas stays for a bit.
"You been sittin' here a while, you want something to drink, or anything?" he asks amiably.
While I am thirsty, I figure I'll wait on trying to wrestle with going to the bathroom in this place. "Nah, I'm good. Thank you, though."
Lucas flashes an affable smile and gives a nod before heading back to work.
When Ido is free again, he makes his way back to Alita's stall.
"Alita's team seems to have wrapped this one up," I observe off-handedly upon his arrival.
Ido nods, "Yes, they've got quite a lead. The other team put up a fight, but it looks to be just a matter of time now."
As if to punctuate his answer, we turn to look out at the track as we hear a scream arc through the air and something or someone lands near the pit area with a loud metallic 'bang'. We watch as members of the opposing team's pit crew rush over to the impact area, hidden behind a low wall. Soon there's the sound of someone, presumably the individual who crash-landed, screaming almost at the top of his lungs.
"What the fuck kind of weapon is that?! Is that thing even legal?!"
There's a quiet moment where the other pit crew is huddled together, conferring with each other.
Crash-lander continues his tirade, "FUCK that bitch! You put me back together and you send me back out! I'm gonna fuck her up!" His voice raises to a near scream towards the end.
As they drag him off to their side of the pit area, we can see that he's missing both arms, half a leg and his torso is torn up. He continues his ravings as they drag him away, promising untold vengeance upon the young cyborg girl who humiliated him.
I look over at Ido and dryly comment, "Well. Looks like another satisfied customer." A short pause and I quickly add, "She completely dismantled him, what the hell makes him think he'll have any better luck with round two?"
Ido just shrugs, "His wounded pride will drive him to try, no doubt." He turns back to rechecking his tools and spare parts, shaking his head.
The remainder of the game continues along similar lines. Alita and her team tear through the opposing team with some trouble but in the end, the opposition is forced to field all three of their reserve players. By the time the game ends, the other team only has three paladins in working order and Alita's team only lost one when R.J. was forced out due to excessive damage. His replacement out of the three-man reserves was eager to show what he could do, but was quickly taken down halfway through his first lap.
With the player count at two-to-one odds in Alita's team's favor, Malcolm and Ido decide not to bother sending another reserve onto the track. By the time it's all over, I am more than ready to get the hell out of there and get to bed. The whole ordeal left me drained and feeling light-headed. I'm also looking forward to a shower to wash away this feeling of having a strange film all over me. Rather troubling is the fact that, though I try to deny it, I did actually enjoy watching Alita and her team do their thing on the track.
Back in the locker room, I'm waiting in a corner while Ido and Malcolm are in Alita's little machine bay, transferring her core back into her Berserker body. I observe Roman (who I've learned is the second best player on the team right behind Alita) appraoch the bay Ido and the others are in. I can't see into the bay, but I can overhear their conversation.
"Hey, doc," Roman asks, "how's it coming on that weapon you promised?"
Ido's answer is a bit distracted, likely due to his focusing on transferring Alita, "Oh, it's coming fine. I came across an idea for a possible improvement, but it's going to require a bit more testing. So It's going to be a little late. Sorry."
Roman's response is understanding, but it's obvious he's eager to get his hands on Ido's new upgrade. Like most of his teammates, he exchanges a quick good-bye with me as he heads out of the locker room and into the pack of waiting reporters who've waylaid all of Alita's teammates. Interestingly, the only ones who didn't speak to me as they left were Tanaka and the two brothers, Roberto and Banick. While Tanaka simply ignored me, the two brothers actually almost glared at me on the way out, leaving me to wonder if I somehow offended them.
Ido, Alita and Malcolm finally emerge from that bay, with Alita once again in her Berserker. Alita gives Ido a quick familial hug and spares a friendly pat on the shoulder for me as she bids the three of us farewell. I notice that she pauses at the door, seeming to steel herself before stepping through into the pack of waiting reporters. Being something of an introvert, I feel a pang of sympathy at the thought having to deal with that sort of thing.
Turning to me, Ido says, "Well, now we wait a bit."
I cock my head at him curiously, "Uh, wait for what?"
"For Alita to lead that pack of hyenas away," Malcolm explains.
Frowning thoughtfully, Ido nods, "She and I didn't want you having to deal with getting mobbed by them, knowing what that might do to you."
There's an impulse to push back against that, but there's no arguing that he's right. I don't do well with crowds as it is. I certainly don't want to deal with being surrounded by a swarm of reporters, even if they would be more focused on Ido.
Ido and Malcolm spend the time talking over Motorball business. Listening in from the sidelines, I learn that reporters in the Pit during a game are actually fairly rare, but sometimes a news company will pay a bit to the people running the show to get close-ups of the paladins and Pit crews during a game. Seems the fans really eat that stuff up, which in turn boosts profits for the news channel.
After about fifteen minutes or so, Ido decides it's safe enough to head out and the two of us part ways with Malcolm. Despite his gruff manner, he seems like a decent sort, he just runs a tight ship and doesn't care for anything that might disrupt his team. Like a crippled guy in a wheelchair being dragged into the Pit by the team's Tuner/cyber-surgeon.
We catch up to Alita, having finally shaken the mob of reporters. Koyomi had managed to help rescue her with a timely pickup in the van. Then, it's back to the clinic where the three of them decide to hold a little after-game gathering to unwind and spend some time together.
As I'm about to leave to get a quick shower before heading to bed, Ido stops me. "Jason, why don't you join us? Just for a little bit." When I hesitate to answer, he adds, "It would be nice to have you there, since you were technically part of tonight's win."
The fight against 'feeling I would be imposing myself on them', and the desire to actually have some company rages as I sit there for a moment, unable to decide. Finally, the desire for their company wins out.
"Sure," I say at last, "Lemme grab a shower first."
Ido's smiles in seeming relief at my answer, "Alright then, see you in a bit."
I rush through a quick shower and head back down, actually looking forward to spending some free time with them after thinking about it. I also take a moment to appreciate that my depression seems to be nowhere in sight. With some hesitancy, worried I'll send myself spiraling again, I take out Alondra's necklace and look at it.
'I am so sorry I failed you,' I say silently. 'If only I'd been a better man, maybe I could have helped you.' A surge of pain prompts me to put the necklace away again, as I blink back tears.
Taking a deep breath, I head back down to join the others.
The little gathering ends up being more enjoyable than I'd hoped. Ido and I share a drink while the girls spend most of the time talking. It gives me the opportunity to see just how close the two are, almost like sisters.
At one point, Ido mentions the reporter who'd questioned me.
With a suspicious frown, Alita asks, "What did he want?"
I take a quick sip of brandy to give me a moment to formulate an answer. "He was diggin' for personal details. Guess he thought with me living here, I might be a good source for something he could use."
Her tone slightly guarded, Koyomi asks, "What did you tell him?"
With a dismissive shrug, I tell her, "I informed him that Alita is a cyborg. I then began going into excruciating detail about what a cybernetic organism is." Feigning confusion, I add, "He didn't seem interested in hearing it." I punctuate with a 'who knows' shrug.
"At which point Lucas and I chased him off," Ido adds.
Koyomi lets out a little laugh, "Wish I could have seen his expression. Bet he didn't care for that."
I nod agreement. "When he left, he spouted some nonsense about me being famous if I'd helped him out."
"Not entirely nonsense, actually," Ido cuts in. When he has my attention he goes on to explain, "Alita is more private than many other players. And with how swiftly she's risen through the ranks, as well as how popular she's become all over the city, information on her can fetch a high price from a news agency. Being a source of such information can translate into a bit of notoriety."
One corner of her lips pulled up in an appreciative smile, Alita says to me, "Thanks for not saying anything."
I shrug it off, "Didn't seem like my place to be talkin' to some reporter about your personal life. Figured if there was something you wanted them knowin', you'd tell 'em."
"You know," Koyomi says, directing an almost impish grin in my direction, "I bet you'd be a lot of fun, if you let yourself loosen up a bit."
Swept up in a sudden bout of playfulness, I raise my glass to her and say with feigned seriousness, "Little lady, I put the 'F' 'U' in 'fun'!" At which point I down the remainder of my shotglass, lightly slam it down on the tabletop and lean back in my wheelchair.
In response, I'm rewarded with Ido and Koyomi both bursting out in laughter, while Alita chuckles and shakes her head at me.
The gathering only lasts another half-hour after that, then Koyomi bids us good night. Feeling strangely energized, I stay and clean up in order to allow Ido and Alita to head off to bed. However, after washing and putting away the last of the few dishes that were used, the energy wears off and I'm struggling against fatigue.
Making my way upstair, I finally get to my room, fumble for the light switch and go to close the door. I nearly jump out of my skin upon hearing a soft voice from the darkened hallway.
"Hey, got a minute?" Alita asks from beyond the half-closed door.
I had thought the others were asleep by now. After a quick check to make sure my heart is still beating, I reply, "Sure." Opening the door fully, I back out of the way so as to give her room to step in. "What's on yer mind?"
"Just wanted to check on you," she says, keeping her voice low. "After what happened at the arena, Ido and I are still a bit worried. It was good to see you doing so much better this evening."
"Yeah, I was glad of that, myself." I glance over at my smartphone, sitting on the nightstand, "It's strange. After what happened in the lockerroom, it's like the only way to go was up, I suppose."
It's not the first time a mood swing has hit me so suddenly, but usually the depression lasts for several days. It makes me wonder if my time here, or Ido's medication, or both are causing some unexpected changes in the way my illness hits me.
With genuine relief, she says, "Whatever the case, we're glad to see you doing better again." She spares a brief smile as she adds, "Well, have a good night."
Siezed by some vague impulse, I tell her, "Hold on a sec." She stops and turns back as I dig around in my pocket, and pull out Alondra's necklace. "Here," I say, holding the necklace up to her. It feels much heavier than it probably should. "She originally meant to give this to you. I think you oughta have it."
There's a moment's pause as she stops to look down at the necklace. Then, putting one hand under mine, she uses her other hand to gently close my fingers around piece of jewelry. "No," she says in an even softer voice, with a gentle shake of her head. "She gave that to you for saving her friend. You should definately keep it."
Heaving a quiet sigh, I take my hand back and rest it in my lap, to stare down at the little soaring bird on a chain. It feels like there's some sort of meaning in that visual, but I'm too tired to think straight.
"Her death really bothered you, didn't it?" Alita makes it sound more of an observation than a question.
"I suppose it did," I say without thinking. "I know it probably shouldn't have affected me so much, considering I didn't even know her, but-" My voice abruptly catches in my throat. Instead, I shrug and shake my head.
"But... what?" Alita gently prompts.
Clenching my eyes shut, I try to force my tired brain to think, wondering if there's even a point to answering. Ever since finding out about her suicide, I so badly wanted to talk to someone, I just didn't want to be a bother. Everyone around me seemed to have things that were so much more important to deal with. I was just the extraneous extra. I always seem to be the extraneous extra.
Finally, I open my eyes, keeping my gaze on that necklace and say, "But, I've been there. I've been suicidal, more than once. I know a bit about what can drive someone to do that." My voice becomes rough with emotion, "I should have- I did recognize the signs, I was just too stupid to see it in time."
"But you did see it in time," she firmly insists. "You knew something was wrong, and you told Gerhad and Ido. He even asked me to check on her once he got her address." She kneels down so that I have to look her in the eyes, "I know you feel like you somehow failed her, but you're not always going to be able to save someone. No matter how much you want to, or feel that you should have been able to."
Something about the way she says that last part makes me wonder if she might be talking about something more personal? My mind just isn't sure what to make of that, and I'm sure as hell not about to ask. Regardless, I get a strong sense of empathy from her.
"Yeah, guess you're right," I concede.
To my immense surprise, she stands back up and leans down, giving me a quick hug, "Try to get some sleep. See you in the morning."
"Thanks," I respond automatically. "See ya in the morning." Then I'm alone again. Her words don't entirely smooth away the guilt and regret over what happened, but they do help.
