After his run in with Leader Platelet, NC found himself wandering all over the body, his need to find his red blood cell not abating, but his stride wasn't as hurried or lengthy as before. No, instead, he opted to stroll and take in his surroundings. There was no reason for it, but…
Actually, he did have a reason why he was acting so leisurely even though he had a personal mission to fulfill. At a certain plaza in the junction of the elbow, there was a handful of benches and fountains where cells could gather and relax. It wasn't a site that was mentioned in any of the brochures that his creator had given him, but it was just as grand as the hot springs within the nostrils or the volcanoes of acid in the stomach. Once he found a lone bench, NC sat.
There, he fished out the handkerchief and studied it. At first glance, it was a simple cloth that had an off white color to it and the embroidery around the edges were of flowers and other curlicues. If NC didn't know any better, he would say that Little Miss Red must have stolen it from a macrophage.
No, wait.
That was wrong.
Weren't young erythrocytes raised by macrophages? Perhaps the handkerchief was a reminder of her old caretaker.
NC laughed a little to himself. That would be in character for his dear red blood cell. Of course she would be the one to hold onto a child's memory. All that he could remember of his childhood was that…
Well.
He didn't have a childhood.
Right as NC thought that, his mood darkened. Roughly, he shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket of his pants, not at all minding that he didn't fold it back into a neat little square like the platelet had done.
NC was about to leave and renew his search, when he caught sight of a red blood cell vendor selling glucose pops.
It's stupid and silly, but when NC saw the different flavors of glucose pops, he found that his organelles began to wriggle and writhe within his cell body. The problem was obvious: hunger was nipping at his insides. Although normal cells didn't usually need as much nourishment as other cells, it was a known fact that they do eat and when they do, their appetites were quite similar to that of red blood cells. Normal cells liked glucose just as much as the erythrocytes, if not more than them.
However, NC didn't want to stop his search for his Little Miss Red now that his determination was renewed.
It was irrational of him, but NC didn't want to let any opportunity slip past him. He was back and better than ever—even if his memories haven't all been returned to him. Like a dripping faucet or sand through a tiny hourglass, he was slowly remembering and slowly becoming him. It's because of these remnants of memories that remind him of every cell's transgressions against him and his own misdeeds that he knows that he's gone through this process before.
Yet, his memories had been returned to him faster than what was happening now.
A thought occurred to him.
Was there something wrong with him?
If NC wasn't surrounded by the locals of this particular location, he would have keeled over because of the laughter that was threatening to bubble out from him.
Of course there was something wrong with him.
He has a mutation.
He is a mutation.
He's a reincarnation of Cancer.
What more could be considered wrong to him? He was a walking-talking mistake and for now, everything seemed to be falling to pieces because he can't find her or his kind hearted killer anywhere. How had he managed it the last time he had been alive and filled with this impossible need to mess with his favorite neutrophil? All he could remember was the sense of victory that he had found U-1146, which was followed by…
Why was his chest burning? Were his eyes narrowing in anger?
Ah, yes. NC had been feeling… something when he saw how the erythrocyte and the granulocyte were so close and warm towards each other.
Warmth.
Oh, how he had missed 3803's closeness and her almost-compliance in those final days…
A brief phantom pain surged through his chest…
Ah, yes.
If he remembered correctly, before he had managed to see his dear Little Miss Red one last time, one of the NK Cells managed to do him in with a quick thrust of her sword. It was a miracle to have gotten away when he could, to have walked back into the apartment complex where he had been keeping his dear erythrocyte. Then again, perhaps the assembled mob of white blood cells knew that he would eventually lead them back to the red blood cell who had gone astray. Regardless of the why's and how's of his final moments, NC was certain about one thing: getting killed again was not something he wanted to relive.
NC stopped short in his determined wandering, his thoughts coming to a halt.
How many times had he died?
It was a thought that he had never considered, but now he wanted to know the answer. Hadn't he been killed by another NK Cell before? And then, wasn't there a time where he managed to incapacitate a Helper T Cell in his second go around the body?
NC gritted his teeth and hoped to whatever deity was out there that he would not die again. Of course, he was a normal cell—as much as he wanted to deny it—and that meant that white blood cells couldn't attack him.
He was only a benign mutation.
And with that final thought, he pushed himself forward so that he could finally track down and make contact with his favorite cells.
NC didn't want to admit it.
His pride simply wouldn't allow such a thing to be discussed.
However—
He had failed.
Miserably, he might add.
When he made his way to the apartment complex on the second floor, he noticed that his roommate was busy playing with a pack of cards by himself. If memory served right, by the look of the overturned cards and the way the suits were descending in order, it looked like his creator was playing solitaire. NC shook his head before he slammed the door closed. At the sudden sound, Normal Cell happened to glance at NC, who at that point plopped onto his bed, mindful of the way he creased the normally neat covers.
Normal Cell canted his head, as if waiting for a greeting from his flawed. However, the silence grew longer the harder Normal Cell stared at NC, so he decided to take charge of the conversation. If NC hoped to become a wonderful normal cell, he was going to have to learn how to be more mindful of his manners.
"Did you have fun?"
Normal Cell spotted NC trying to burrow deep under the covers, as if trying to hide away from the world. Seeing that NC looked a little off—irritated seemed like an appropriate word for his attitude—Normal Cell knew that he probably would like to be left alone, but that didn't stop Normal Cell from trying his hardest to be kind and attentive to his replica.
"Come on, you've been gone throughout most of this cycle. At least tell me you've tried out the newest glucose pops."
NC grumbled a little to confirm that no, he did not eat any of the new glucose pops.
The room was silent again, the atmosphere more awkward than ever. Finally, after reaching what appeared to be a stalemate—in his cards and at the lack of positive communication—Normal Cell decided to take matters into his own hands. Before he could regret his decision, the original normal cell swept all of his cards onto the surface of his desk and retrieved his shoes near the exit.
"All right, I'll head down to the cafe a few minutes from here. I'll bring some of those new glucose pops for you. I've been hearing good reviews from the red blood cells!" Normal Cell laced up his shoes and was about to head out the door, but then he stopped. A thought just occurred to him. "1998, I should warn you."
NC's head bobbed out of the comfort of his covers before he pasted a look of complete apathy onto his face.
That was more than enough information in that gaze for Normal Cell to sigh before saying, "I've requested a new delivery of oxygen. The delivery should be any minute now. Can you at least try to be nice and sign it when the red blood cell comes here?"
NC nodded in confirmation. "Don't worry, I won't scare away the delivery boy."
Normal Cell smiled, the urge to tease rising. "You never know. It could be a delivery girl!" There was no mistaking the mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes, but NC paid it no mind.
"Just get those glucose things, would you?"
Normal Cell gave him a salute before heading out the door.
Once his roommate was gone, NC set out to work. Before he had entered the room, NC had thought of multiple ways of trying to get Normal Cell out of his room. He had thought about annoying Normal Cell to death or knocking him out, but it seemed that Normal Cell wanted an out just as badly as NC if he was being honest. Whatever the real reason why he wanted a glucose cone, NC didn't care. No, what he wanted to do was look up some information from Normal Cell's side of the room considering that his own side was somewhat bereft of any personal effects.
Quickly, NC began rifling through drawers and under the bed. There was a newspaper, fairly recent by the way the paper was still creased and folded like it had been delivered when the new cycle had just begun. As his lime green eyes roved over the contents, he knew that it must have been a dozen or so cycles since he had been alive. Perhaps even more if this newspaper was out of date. That wasn't so bad.
He would still be fresh in the memory of his favorite cells.
His lips rose up in a smirk as he thought about that. He liked being remembered. And if Little Miss Red remembered him vividly… Oh, he could definitely use that to his advantage.
NC made sure to place the newspaper back where he found it and then he looked at the drawers, all of which had miscellaneous articles of clothing or other knick knacks. Nothing of use could be found—well, unless Normal Cell thought that brochures of different sites in the body were useful. Why have the brochures anyway? Any cell worth their salt could find sometime in their schedule to go there by themselves. And why have so many? Were they mementos?
A little too disgusted by the thought of such sentimentality, NC shoved the brochures back where he found them. Never mind that he had a handkerchief from one of the cells that he so desperately wanted to see again. For one brief moment, NC took out the handkerchief again.
This time, when he unfolded it, there were creases and wrinkles all over the fabric. It looked more worn and less pretty to look at, however, NC could see the character that was held within the strands of embroidery. It truly looked like a masterpiece—not that NC had any past experience with art, but he appreciated what he saw.
With a sigh, NC began folding the handkerchief neatly this time and placed it back into his pocket. Would Little Miss Red thank him for a kind gesture or would she—
There was a quick rap on the door—two knocks, a beat, and then two more knocks.
It was an unusual combination to be sure, but it had grabbed NC's attention. Not caring about the state that he left his side of the room on, he quickly opened the door and stared.
Golden eyes.
Bright red hair.
Red.
Red.
RED.
And then—
She's tipping over.
And she's falling.
And he's catching her right in his arms.
And he's scared because no, this is not how their first meeting was supposed to go and now he's caught off guard and—
And—
And—
And—
He's finally found her.