Disclaimer: I do not own I am Number Four. This is the property of Pittacus Lore (James Frey and Jobie Hughes)
A/N: OMG! I can't believe I finished this! The long awaited Scars story! It felt like an emotional rollercoaster while I wrote this. Not sure if that translated in my writing. But it's done and I can breathe and cruise through some other things before tackling another one. Enjoy!
Scars
There are twenty-three steps on the stairs. John knew that because he counted each and every step as he walked up them. There are twenty-three steps, he repeated in his head as he looked down, ignoring the audible chatter from down the hallway. But maybe I should count again, just to make sure. That was the chicken in him. The part that wasn't brace enough to move away from the stairs to the room he slept in half a year ago. The part of him that wasn't brave enough to confront the girl with harsh hazel eyes and a stunning smile even after she kissed him in plain sight of their friends and ex-girlfriend. Of course, they were sparring and everything but still…
"John, I can hear you think from down here." Logan said as he appeared from the living room. "If you come down here without speaking to her, I am going to kick your ass." Sighing, John took his first step towards the room. The walk seemed long but in reality it was quite short, too short for his liking. He stood outside of his room. A room he used to barge into without thinking but now he's hesitating in front of the familiar wooden door. He could hear Six's soft steps against the hardwood floors as she paced back and forth between the closet and her suitcase. She was muttering to someone in a frustrated tone.
"He worries way too much." Six complained through the door. John could hear Sam sighing from his spot on the bed "I'm not a fragile little girl. I can take care of myself." John nodded his head, agreeing with her whole heartedly. She can take care of herself and proved it nearly every day. It infuriated John because he wants to protect her from everything. "I understand where he's coming from but this is more important. There's someone out there who needs our help, my help. That has to outweigh my injury." Never, John thought as he shook her head. Nothing outweighs you. The bed springs squeaked as Sam shifted on the bed.
"You can't really blame him." Sam said, trying to figure out what words that would best describe John's, and really, everyone's worry. "We all were, some more than others. When the accident happened, we were all scared." John didn't need to be Logan to feel the despair in Sam's voice. It was virtually palpable. John felt an unfamiliar pang in himself when Sam muttered the word accident. It was much more than a simple accident.
"Sam!" Six shouted. "I'm right here." She was trying really hard to dispel the dark mood that always fell over the air when anyone talked or thought about the accident. John rested his head against the door and closed his eyes. He could picture Six standing there in the middle of the room. Her arms would be spread apart, showing Sam she was here in front of him, ok. "I'm not dying. I'm right here." She whispered in a soft tone. The springs of the bed creaked again and John heard Sam's heavy footsteps against the floor as he walked over to her. He could barely hear Sam's tired sigh before he said his next words.
"I know, Six. I can see you." He whispered back, probably stroking her arm. "You are now. But for one fleeting second, we all thought you weren't." The graveness in Sam's voice sucked all the fight out of the strong girl in front of him. She probably stood there, deflated as the weight of his words finally hit her. John took a deep breath and stepped away from the door until his back lightly hit the wall. Unwanted memories of that night flooded back instantly.
John wasn't sure if he wanted to curse or kiss the beeping machine beside him. It was the only sound in the room aside from his steady breathing. The beeping was annoying and reassuring. It was the only thing that told him she was still alive. But it was also a curse. Every single beep could be her last, her last breath, her last heart beat, and her last moment in this world with him. John decided just to leave the machine alone. Christ might shout at him otherwise.
The room, aside from the infuriating grateful beeping and breathing, was silent. John sat in the uncomfortable chair, ignoring and focusing on the beep and the rising and falling of the girl's chest. The room was an odd but fitting combination of smells: the faint scent of blood overpowered by the sharp concentrated smell of disinfectant. It used to burn John's nose but now he hardly noticed it any longer. The image of the usually strong girl was burned into John's memory; it was difficult to believe what was right in front of him. Connected to her right arm was an IV drop, giving Six a bit of morphine to dull the intense pain. An oxygen mask covered her mouth, filling her lungs with much needed air. Six's face, which revealed an array of emotions before, was strangely blank. John took in everything, burning the image into his eyes.
Six's bronze skin lost its usually healthy glow. The pure white sundress she wore that flattered her amazing figure and natural beauty had a gaping rip on the side where the knife dug into. Stitches lined her side in a messy crisscross pattern, holding the wound closed. Pristine white sheets underneath her were stained red, forever tainted the pureness of the fabric. No amount of scrubbing will ever cleanse the sheets. John slowly reached out, firmly gripping her left hand in both of his. "Six…" He whispered, wondering and hoping she could hear him.
"God… don't push there." John lifted his eyes from the image of Six and stared out at the open door. He could make out the top of Logan's head as he turned away from Christ's touch. Logan moaned again in pain as Christ ignored his plea and continued probing the young man. Logan was battered and bruised from the aftermath of the surprised fight. They all were. John gasped; feeling a sharp stab on his left side after all the adrenaline left his system. It felt like someone sucker punched him on his left side repeatedly, nearly sending him to the floor. Carefully, John touched his side, gingerly touching the skin; thankfully no bleeding, just huge bruises and a constant sharp pain.
"Suck it up." Christ ordered his Garde. The sound of pills falling out of a plastic bottle cut through the silent air. "Here, take these and don't move." Logan muttered something John couldn't hear. "Yea, you too." Christ replied before walking off, most likely checking on Sam. John closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing instead of the pain. Bernie wandered in, limping. The sight was pitiful. His front paw was pulled into a sling, broken from the fight but the beagle still pulled himself into the room and placed his head on John's knee. John felt a wave of concern from his old friend. Instead of saying anything, John absentmindedly stroked his soft head.
"Bernie…" he said, needed to say something as he stared into the dog's black sad eyes. "This is my fault." John didn't expect Bernie to reply but someone did.
"Yea, it is." Looking away from his dog, John stared up to see Logan leaning against the door frame, barely standing. He was the worst beside Six. His right arm was pulled into a sling, broken when he smashed into the Mogadorain's scout face. His attractive face was marred with cuts and gashes, aging him a good five years. The t-shirt he wore was ripped, tattered and stained with blood. The bloody shirt clenched to his lean body. Logan's soulful gray eyes lost their usual playful gleam replaced by a stony gaze. "It is your fault, John."
Once Logan started, it was difficult to stop him. His mouth ran, calling John irresponsible, unworthy of his position as a Loric Garde, and a lot of other things. But, they both knew Logan's words weren't his true feelings. But, they both wish they were. They wished there was a concrete reason why Six was hurt so badly. But, it wasn't anyone's fault. The accident was a combination of bad luck and events. They were at the wrong place at the exact wrong time. No one was to blame except maybe the Mogadorain scum who was holding the other side of the blade. But he was now a pile of ashes, scattered by the wind.
Logan wasn't mad at John personally. Yes, there was anger in his words but they weren't aimed at John. Ultimately, Logan was mad at himself for letting this happen. He should have noticed the feeling in the air, a sinister aura in the mist of merry buzzing but he ignored it, indulging in the unusual happy atmosphere. If Logan could, he would blame himself for not being strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to prevent it. It was no one's fault but they all felt like it was theirs.
"Hey trooper, I'm tired of hearing you run your mouth." Logan winced when Christ grabbed his short hair and tugged it. "Get your sorry ass outside and check on Sam." Logan nodded his head, happy he got to rant before limping out. Christ's wise emerald green eyes appeared tired as he pulled his heavy medical bag next to John and placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "You alright solider?" John sucked in a breath, feeling the pain and nodded his head. Christ smiled, seeing through the lie instantly but ignored him for a second, focusing on Six's drip. John watched as Christ stared at the machines with old eyes, deciphering the beeping like a season pro. "Stop lying about the pain and take your shirt off." Christ ordered bluntly as he ran his fingers over Six's thin wrist, counting the pulse, not trusting the machine entirely. His eyes strayed to John's slump figure. "And sit up straighter."
John compelled, pushing himself up before gasped, finally feeling a piercing pain in his chest. He gasped and doubled over, clenching the front of his shirt, sucking in deep breaths. This is nothing, he thought as he stared at Six's unsettling calm face. This is nothing compared to what Six had to endure. Christ swore under his breath and moved to help John. His fingers found a pair of scissors in his bag as he cut the thin material off the boy. Christ manually pushed John up, coaxing another gasp followed by a string of cusswords from the young man. Christ wasn't fazed as he ran his fingers down John's side, feeling each rib. A stubborn frown appeared on his face as he gently pushed on one rib. John howled in pain and grabbed Christ's arm a little too tightly. The Cepan cringed at the pain and John loosened immediately. "Don't… do that." John gasped.
"Two broken ribs and possible a punctured lung," Christ diagnosed. "I'm surprised you didn't feel it before." John grimaced, not liking how the pain was now constantly stabbing him. Christ reached into his bag and grabbed a bottle of unmarked pills. "Human medicine," he muttered as he poured out two capsules and held them out for John to slip in his mouth. "One hell of a creation. Don't move while I wrap your torso." John followed his instructions and tried not to wince as Christ wrapped him rapidly. An odd moment of silent passed between the two until Christ broke it. "You know, Logan doesn't mean anything he said, right?"
"Yeah, I know." John confirmed, closing his tired eyes as Christ securely the wrapping. "But it always feels better to blame someone. And you can't exactly blame fate. It has a way of biting you back in the butt." John smiled sarcastically, feeling odd for being so pessimistic. That was typically Christ's job. Christ sat up from his spot on Six's bed and stared at John straight in the eyes. It's been a long time since John felt like he could rely on someone but he was grateful Christ was here to smooth out the mistakes they've made.
"Look bud, if you want to blame someone, blames the fucking Mogadorains. Six is a strong girl. She's not going to let a little wound like this stop her. She's strong like Katarina." John couldn't help but notice how Christ's voice dipped down to a tender tone when he said Katarina. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make sure Logan hasn't killed Sam." John tried to smile at the lame joke as Christ left the room. Yes, John was happy Christ was there with them, pretending to know what he was doing. He sat there, closing his eyes as the pain dulled.
"John…" A raspy voice whispered. John jumped, nearly hitting himself against the back of his chair and leaned forward. Six's soft hazel eyes stared at him, weak but open. Her lips tried to turn up in a smile but fell into a grimace. "What are you shirtless?"
John chuckled out of relief and took in a deep breath. "Blame Christ." He answered before shouting to everyone. She was back. She was back from the dead.
"I'm sorry, Sam." John blinked the fresh memory away and focused voice in the room in front of him. Everything was so fresh in his mind it physically hurt. John took deep breaths, running his hand over his chest, feeling the dull pain that accompanied the memory. Six's sweet voice helped chase it away; reassuring him she was here and not gone from his life forever. "I didn't know."
"Yeah, we figured." Sam replied. "We guys don't exactly talk about our feelings. Just be careful, not only for yourself but for us too." Sam's heavy footsteps echoed against the floor as he walked over and opened the door. Sam smiled when he noticed John stand out there. "Six, a lot of people need to hear that but I think this idiot in front of me needs it most." John rolled his eyes as he walked into the room. Sam lightly squeezed John's shoulder and whispered into his ear. "I softened her for you."
"John…" Six murmured from her spot in the middle of the room as he closed the door behind him. He tried to look at everything that wasn't Six. Everything in the room seemed right and wrong at the same time. His desk still sat underneath the huge window overlooking the road leading to town. His closet was open, revealing only a few outfits of clothes that were too feminine for him. The poster of Bernie Koaser still hung dutifully in the corner, collecting dust.
"God, this place has changed." John said, stepping in to the room and looking at the now peeling wallpaper. Unable to avoid the girl in the middle, John turned to face her, holding his hands out in a hug gesture. Six didn't hesitate as she glided towards him, falling into his warm embrace. Her arms wrapped around his waist as John returned the hug with equal force. God, I wanted to do this in so long. John thought as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. "Six…" He whispered, unable to say anything else.
"I'm sorry." The words spilled out of her mouth as she pulled away, looking at him with big hazel eyes. "I'm sorry for the fight downstairs. I'm sorry for getting myself hurt. I'm sorry for making you and everyone else worry. I'm sorr – " John placed his finger on her lips, marveled by how soft they were and smiled at her. She looked frantic as the words fell out of her mouth like there wasn't enough time in their lives for all her apologies. He leaned down so their foreheads were touching. John closed his eyes, smiling as he could feel Six's breath against his face.
"Six, stop saying sorry. It doesn't fit your personality." Six smiled up as he kissed her forehead before backing away and sitting on the bed. She nodded her head and turned to the closet, gathering her clothes. A peaceful yet tense silence fell over them. John took this time to really look at her. She changed out of her training clothes, opting for a teenage outfit of skinny black jeans and an oversized flannel shirt. John smiled as a piece of her black hair escaped its bun, ticking the back of her neck. She moved with purpose as she packed the clothes into the modest size bag. That reminded him why he was here. She was leaving for Spain. By herself. Without him. "Why?" John asked suddenly.
Six froze and turned around, clenching a striped shirt to her chest. "Why what?" She repeated, not sure what John was referring too.
"Why did you push me away?" Slowly, Six realized what John was referring too: the accident in the middle of Mardi Gras. Unconsciously, Six pulled herself back, hugging the shirt to her chest like a physical shield between her and John. He noticed it instantly and stood up, gently touching her arm, trying to bring her back to this moment instead of the nightmare. "Six, tell me. Make me understand why. Why would you risk your life to save mine?"
Six looked up at him, scowling and pushing his arm away. "Do you really think your life means so little?" She snapped, throwing the shirt down into her bag and taking a threatening step towards him. John held his ground, glad to see an angry Six instead of a quiet one. "God damn it, John cherish your life. I wanted to save you. You don't get a say in my actions!"
"Yes I do!" John shouted back, feeling angry boiling in him. "I get a damn say if it means you're putting your life in jeopardy! Jesus Six, we nearly lost you. I nearly lost you."
"I did too!" She screamed back, grabbing both of his forearms, digging her dull nails into his skin. John flinched at the pain but kept his blue eyes steady on her hazel ones. "I don't think I can take it if I lose someone so important in my life." John could hear the desperation in Six's voice as the words tumbled out. "After Katarina…" her voice faltered at her deceased Cepan's name before contining. "After Katarina, I never thought someone could be as important to me as her. But Sam and Logan and Christ and Bernie and you… god, you stupid guys somehow became another Katarina, especially you… I can't lose you, John." John shook his head, disagreeing with her.
"You're a stupid girl," John muttered, grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly towards him. He held her close, needing to hear and feel her heartbeat. John frowned at himself before looking Six in the eyes. "You make me so frustrated, you know that." Six blinked, taking deep breaths from her pervious outburst. "I'm so fucking frustrated because loving you is driving me crazy with worry, angry and all these things. I love you, Six. I don't care if you kick or scream at me being over bearing because I fucking love you." Six gasped at him. "So, don't… please… don't do that. Don't risk your life for me every again. I can't lose you." And he kissed her, hoping she could taste how frustrated he was with loving her or how much he loved her period.
A/N2: How was it? Good? Bad? Unexpected? Right now, I have no more future moments but I am totally open for any ideas or requests. Just PM me and we can totally bounce ideas around for my next moment. Love ya and review!