There was a time when he had fallen down the staircase in his house. His feet hadn't quite matched the angle of the stairs and suddenly the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. The entire scene unfolded in complete silence, the only sound was of his wrists snapping as they connected with the stairs.

He didn't remember his mother screaming or the driver running to the car with his tiny broken body. But he did remember the chandelier looming over him at the bottom of the staircase; all three-hundred and sixty bulbs staring at him with unblinking eyes. And he had stared back, realizing that the chandelier hadn't even trembled when his body cracked into the ground.

He hadn't thought of home in a very long time.

Abel's eyes curled open and a grey ceiling loomed over him. No chandelier or stars, just cracks in the paint. He blinked lazily a few times, adjusting to the soft light of the room. He wasn't home, but he was somewhere just as familiar. A muted rumble ran through the walls and he could feel a slight tremor in his skin. The same frequency as the Sleipnir.

He propped his elbows underneath him and slowly rose to a sitting position, the IV needle in his wrist sliding around under his skin. The room shifted around him and he almost retched from all of the blood pounding against his skin. It took a few deep breaths before the room righted itself again.

A soft light emitted from the surface he was sitting on, casting a harsh shadow against his skin. He swung his legs over the side of the hard shelf, the room spinning around his head again. He cradled his head in his hands. The last thing he remembered was starlight and screaming. Who had been screaming? Might have been Cain, but Abel didn't think Cain was even capable of creating a noise like that. A person had to be emotionally-invested to scream.

He drew in a deep breath and sat up straight, keeping his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning too much. It was almost like he was back in the Reliant and everything was going horribly, horribly wrong. Red lights and Cain yelling something about a Colteron. Then the starlight and screaming.

His eyes snapped open. Nothing but trembling silence and soft light stared back.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. These kind of things happened during war, he just hadn't expected it to happen to him. The one good thing about being at the edge of space was his father wasn't around to gloat about how right he had been. Abel looked around the unfamiliar room, trying to figure out where he might be. There were only a few places he hadn't been on the ship yet: the brig, the fighter's floor, the medical bay, the-. The medical bay.

He looked down at his body, the stale fear rising up again. Two legs, two arms and everything still in the right place. But something wasn't right with his skin. He traced his fingers over his bare chest, the pads of his fingers running over lines of faint scar tissue. Just like a star system. The lines hadn't been there before though. He checked both his shoulders, noting the six tiny marks on either one. Remnants from a Rapid Regeneration Cell.

Only the half-dead or dying causalities were put in those.

Abel's stomach curled underneath his heart as the memory flooded back. The red floating in front of the stars. They had been shot down. He shivered and wrapped his arms around his thin, bare body. Cain would kill him.

The door slid opened and a wave of noise crashed into the room. Abel flinched backwards, the sound driving its way into his skull. Just as soon as it had appeared, the sound disappeared with the muted click of the closing door. Standing in front of the door was a man in an off-white uniform, staring at Abel from behind his glass tablet.

"Hello Abel."

Abel managed a weak smile and he tried to cover his bare chest with his arms. The IV drip and hospital briefs didn't really do a good enough job of it.

"H-hi?"

His own broken voice surprised him. It sounded so weak. The man walked further into the room, his boots barely making a sound on the floor. He stood over Abel, his eyes hooded and tired. He reminded Abel of his father.

"How are you feeling?"

The man's eyes rolled over Abel's body and Abel tightened his crossed arms. The man's eyes were too big, no doubt from the thick glasses.

"Fine, I-I guess."

The man turned back to his tablet.

"Good. Just a few tests and you're free to go."

The man shined a few lights in Abel's eyes and poked and prodded his skin. There was something about the man Abel didn't like. It was almost as if someone has chosen his eyes from a jar on a shelf and popped them into his eye sockets. The man flicked his fingers across the glass tablet all the while, barely offering Abel a glance. He tugged the IV needle out of Abel's wrist and finally looked down at Abel.

"You've healed up nicely. Come back in a week for a check-up, but for now you're free to go."

"Healed?"

One of the man's eyebrows twitched upwards.

"Yes. You were in an RRC for four days. You're lucky the shots went clean through you."

Abel shivered. He certainly didn't feel lucky.

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

Abel bit his lip. There were hundreds of questions he wanted to ask, but the man looked like he was about to light him on fire with his eyes. No time for care during a war. Only one question really seemed important even though Abel knew it shouldn't be.

"What happened to my fighter? Cain, his name is Cain."

The man's eyes narrowed and Abel thought he was actually going to burst into flames.

"He's fine."

The man offered Abel a curt nod and turned to press the door open. The sound of panic and slipping time crashed into the room again. Abel ground his teeth together, trying to holding off slapping his hands over his ears. The last battle must not have gone very well. His stomach churned at the thought.

The man paused and turned back to Abel, an annoyed but thoughtful look on his face.

"Try not to get shot down next time; I don't think any of my staff want to deal with that fighter of yours again."

Then the door clicked shut behind the man, leaving Abel wide-eyed and horrified. He almost retched again but managed to keep his composure. Four days of Cain being left to his own devices was definitely not a good thing. It wasn't exactly like anything Abel said to him really dented too far into his skull anyways, but sometimes Abel could talk him down from doing something completely reckless. The guy was like an Id with a smirk and broad shoulders. A blush rose on Abel's features before he could stop it.

Abel cradled his face in his hands again, shaking his head.

He sat like that until someone brought him clothes and shooed him outside the room so another unconscious person could be wheeled into it. They were missing both their legs and all Abel could do was stare with wide eyes, his thoughts drifting back to the red and the stars. His skin crawled over his bones and he backed away, tripping over his feet. Everyone knew these things happened during a war, but every time he repeated the words to himself they only became hollower.

Abel shivered and left out of the side entrance of the medical bay.

A/N: Thanks for all the support so far fellow fiction enthusiasts! Hope this does what its supposed to do.