"Are you going to say something?" he asked, voice raspy. "You staring is kinda freaking me out."
From my spot at the end of his cot I couldn't tear my eyes away. If I looked away even for a second he might slip away, I might wake up from this dream. My eyes swept his body for the hundredth time, all his burns were healed - flesh looking unmarred with the exception of dry flaky blood. I didn't understand.
"How are you alive?" Lucas questioned from beside me, his voice expressing his own confusion.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Artigas answered equally confused now, eyes darting between Lucas and myself. He didn't know, and I wondered what he had thought had happened in the day span he had been dead.
"You shouldn't be," I whispered, his warm brown eyes meeting my own now. I wanted to push the speculation aside, allow myself to embrace my friend, let the fact he was alive and breathing in front of me build excitement but I couldn't. This didn't make sense.
"What do you remember?" Nyko asked, coming to stand behind me. When I had realized Lucas had been right about Artigas I had him go back and wake my fellow healer. I thought he would know what to do, because resurrection wasn't something we covered in med training back on the Arc. Nyko was just as confused as I was though, so we had moved his body indoors onto a cot and waited not knowing if he would suddenly stop breathing again. But he didn't, he woke up, sat up, and was now looking between us like we were the ones who came back from the dead.
"I, uhm," he stuttered, nose scrunching in thought. "I remember running, from the fog maybe? It was dense wasn't it? I don't remember where we hid though, or anything after that really."
"Seriously, what's going on though?" he asked, still scanning the gathered crowd for answers.
"You didn't hide from the fog Artigas," Jaxon's cool timber answered.
"Then how did we get out of it?" Artigas asked clearly confused now as well.
"You didn't," Jaxon replied evenly, embracing his natural stoic tone. "We found a bunker, but you fell behind. Broke your ankle."
"There wasn't anything we could do," I voiced quietly, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
"I don't understand," Artigas said, panic rising in his voice. "If I … if the fog had … I would be…"
"Dead," Nyko supplied for him. "And you were Artigas, scorched by the fog yet here you are now."
"I feel fine though," Artigas explained. "Tired and sore maybe, my ankle does hurt, but I definitely don't feel dead… How is that possible?"
I moved onto my knees and scooted closer up the cot, once close enough I grasped Artigas by his shoulders and pulled him into me. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the shallow breaths in and out, and the grip of his fingers against my shirt. I couldn't answer his one question, just like I couldn't answer the million racing through my own head but I pulled him close. The answers would come in time I hoped.
His head dropped against my shoulder as he closed his eyes with a slight yawn. If I wasn't so overwhelmed with his revival I might have laughed at the sight - only Artigas would 'sleep' for a day straight and still be tired. I hugged him tighter for a moment before leaning away.
"You should eat, and then rest for a while longer," I suggested, letting him move away and brace himself against his pillow. There were other questions I wanted to ask, tests and blood work that I hoped to experiment with to give us the answers that were alluding us now, but I didn't want to push him. The fact that he was alive would suffice for now.
"I have some rations in my bag," Lucas supplied, moving over to grab a bag. "And some water."
"Eat, we will talk more after you have rested," Nyko said, moving towards the opening of the makeshift tent we were in. His eyes locked with mine as he silently signaled me to follow, I stood but hesitated not sure that I wanted to risk leaving Artigas alone.
"Boy," Nyko called out, seeing my conflict. Lucas surprisingly responded, apparently content with the title for now. Or to focused on Artigas to notice. "Stay with Artigas until we get back, leave only if something changes immediately."
Lucas nodded, and despite our disagreements lately I trusted in his ability to at least monitor my friend. Sparing a small smile to Artigas, I moved to follow the healer out of the tent. Both Jaxon and Penn followed behind.
A few yards away, separated from the clan with some semblance of privacy Nyko turned towards us. He ran one of his large hands through his mane of coarse dreads with a sigh. A sigh I was all too familiar with.
"You've never seen something like this before then?" I asked, knowing the answer now.
"Only when you brought Penn back," he answered evenly. I wanted to groan, out of all people Nyko had understood the concept of chest compressions the best, but still insisted it was something unnatural.
"That's not even close to the same," I argued lamely, to tired to re-explain the intricacies. "Penn wasn't swallowed by radiation, dead for a full day, and then suddenly breathing without any hint of injury."
"I didn't know that he was a nightblood," Penn spoke up, his statement sounding like an admission but I didn't understand why. What was a nightblood?
"Both his parents were," Nyko answered, unphased. "But it's never healed him before, nor anyone else I had heard of."
"I'm sorry," I interrupted, "What exactly is a nightblood?"
"A term we use for someone who has black blood," Penn said, as if that explained anything. I stared at him blankly for a moment before turning to Nyko, indicating that he should be the one who explained the concept.
"Some of our people are born with dark blood," Nyko started. "It is often passed down through families, but it indicates strength. It is part of how we choose our leaders - all of our commanders are nightbloods, they are the only ones compatible with the flame."
I blinked a few times as I processed the information, or tried to at least. Dark blood? Flame? Every time I thought I had Earth figured out, something new popped out of the paneling.
"While night bloods are often stronger, I have never seen it heal someone like this before," Nyko continued. "There must be another explanation."
There was an explanation here somewhere, but my mind was racing too fast to catch it. Black blood passed down meant genetic, and if it was a trait used to pick their leaders then it was a desired trait. Possibly an evolved mutation? But resurrecting someone was far beyond any mutation I had ever studied or heard of - nothing was adding up.
"You should rest for now Cole," Nyko said, making me refocus my attention on him.
"No, we should get back to Artigas," I answered, though not denying that sleep sounded ridiculously tempting now that the adrenaline had worn off. There was still work to be done, and I had already decided that I would start by taking a blood sample and seeing if I could conjure up some type of petri dish to test some theories on. I would need to find a better answer for this black blood.
"Go rest," he repeated. "I will send for you once Artigas is rested as well. You're no good to either of us when you are lagged with exhaustion."
I hated when he was logical, it typically never ended the way I wanted. Even now I knew he was right, the past few days had been draining and I hadn't had enough sleep to balance it out. But despite the logic, taking a step away from Artigas seemed unreasonable.
"Come, I'll go back to the tents with you," Jaxon offered, laying his hand just below my shoulder. It wasn't a command I noted, just a suggestion and even his touch was hesitant. He thought I was still angry, and maybe I was, but I couldn't bring myself to shy away from him.
"I'll stay with Artigas, go sleep," Penn said, glancing at me with that sly smirk of his. "Trust me, you look like you need it."
Jaxon pulled me away gently and I let him, but not without mumbling loudly about rude grounders with no manners. Penn laughed as we walked away, heading back the other direction with Nyko.
It wasn't until we reached the cots that I realized that I wasn't just tired now, I was utterly exhausted. I collapsed on the bed, feet hanging off the end. That was close enough I thought to myself, letting my eyes close. A slightly tugging at my feet kept me from tumbling deep into sleep. Jaxon was tugging off my loosely tied boots I realized.
I hadn't spoken to him the entire way back, only speaking to him I spoke to him at all was when I barked at him earlier this morning. Yet despite the days of giving him the cold shoulder, he was still sitting on his knees in front of me pulling off my boots. I groaned loudly, though I hadn't meant to. Cold, focused, stoic Jaxon I could deal with, I could be mad at. This soft caring side of him made me melt and want to forgive everything.
"I'm not doing this so that you'll forgive me," he answered quietly, answering my verbal rambling. "Be mad if you need to be, it's not going to stop me from taking care of you."
"I'm not mad anymore," I admitted. Resentful maybe, just thinking about what happened made me cringe when I let the memory linger but I wasn't mad anymore. Artigas was alive for now, I couldn't be mad at him for killing someone who was technically alive.
"Sit up," he commanded, pulling me up by arms when I didn't move immediately. "You need to take this off."
Slowly, carefully he pulled my jacket from around my shoulders taking extra care to lay it folded just underneath my cot.
"This too?" he asked, tugging at my loose t-shirt that I had fallen asleep in the night before. I typically only liked sleeping in tighter tank tops, hating the way baggier shirts bunched and got caught underneath me as I turned in the night. I wasn't surprised for a moment that Jaxon knew that, so I just nodded and let him run his warm hands underneath my shirt to pull it over my head.
Sitting in my tank top and jeans I decided that was a close to comfortable as I was going to get. My pants were stretchy but tight and it was going to take far too much standing and effort to get them off. I went to lay back down but Jaxon's grip on my wrist stopped me.
"When did you get this?" Jaxon asked, voice lower than normal. I followed his eyes to my chest, noticing his eyes lingering on my tattoo that I had conveniently forgotten about.
"When I got my arm done," I answered honestly, watching him closer now. His large hand ran gently over the top part of the design. "It's a tribute to …. Well a bit of everything I guess. The Arc, our tribe, and you…"
With that his eyes snapped to mine. In contrast to my heavily lidded eyes, his grey orbs were sharp and alert.
"Lay down," he said, leaving no room for argument. But his tone was as even as ever making it difficult for me to determine if he was angry or not.
I scooted back against the tent wall as I had the night before.
"Are you mad?" I asked, deciding to just get it out of way.
"Lay down, sleep," he repeated, ignoring my question. I complied, tucking my arm underneath my pillow. He stood quickly, and for a moment a flash of sadness ran through me. Though that feeling quickly dispersed as I realized he had only moved to close the tent flaps tightly, cutting off most of the light shining through. Pulling off his own boots and outer clothes he moved onto my cot as well. It was barely big enough to fit both of us, but I would never complain out loud about it.
"Stop thinking," he told me, his voice low.
"I don't want you to be mad at me," I argued lamely. I wanted to explain my reasoning behind it, the reason why I choose our clan symbols and what they meant to me, but the feeling of his mouth on my throat kept me from making any sound except the strangled moan that betrayed me.
He kissed gently down my neck, his one hand resting on my waist while the other rested firmly on my hand raised above my head underneath my pillow.
"I'm not mad Cole," his voice rasped as he traced the top part of the tattoo with his mouth. I groaned again, struggling gently against his hold.
"So you like it?" I confirmed.
His hand gripped my waist tighter pulling me unimaginably closer to his warm body, "yes, I like it."
Moving his head up, I smiled as he leaned in to kiss me. Soft, but demanding. He never left any doubt who was in charge, but he was gentle with me as he nipped my lip so he could explore my mouth.
I felt him smirking as he pulled away a few moments later, "let your wandering mind rest now."
I laughed quietly, letting him pull me against his chest. "Yeah, if you thought that was going to help me sleep you were wrong."
"Hm," he answered, "Perhaps I did it wrong?"
Catching his teasing tone I grinned while nodding against him, "I think so, maybe you should try again?"
As he swiftly moved me underneath him and thoughts of sleeping were pushed from mind. My only focus on the warrior above me, his grey eyes shining like a predators in the dark. How had I gone two days without even speaking to him? I would question myself later though I determined, for now I was going to make up for lost time.
I'm struggling with a good direction here. I rewrote this two times and I'm still not happy with it, but I haven't updated in a while and wanted to give you guys something. Searching for motivation, so be patient.