Young Writers Society

"So you can give yourself stitches," I concluded. I got up and went back over to Reed's pack. Did he have any sewing supplies in there? Were you even supposed to use the same set for clothes and skin?

I looked back over at Tiberius.

"Do you have a sewing kit?" I asked.

“You’re asking me this after you wrapped me up?” James asked, closing his eyes and sighing. “I don’t. I did at one point, but I don’t anymore.”

I paused in my search.

Crossing my arms, I turned back to Tiberius again. "You weren't suggesting stitches when I got the bandages, either," I pointed out. As I looked at Reed's pack again, I saw a glimpse of a sewing kit - it had been just out of view earlier.

I triumphantly retrieved my find and returned to his side.

"Here you go," I said, dropping it down next to him. I sat down a second later and started undoing the bandages. They were already stained with blood.

“Well sorry if I’m just a little out of it right now,” James shot back as he picked up the kit of needles and thread. It wasn’t exactly what doctors used, but it would have to do. He looked down with half-lidded eyes as he pulled out a needle and a spool of thread. It looked like it was carefully wrapped to keep things clean.

Fine. Maybe Reed had used this for sewing something other than clothing.

He set the sewing kit down for a moment and looked down at his bloodied hands. He needed to wash them before he did anything... but they would probably get bloody again.

“I need to put pressure on it,” he muttered. How was it that his head was still so embarrassingly cloudy? “For it to stop bleeding so much.”

I looked at his injury.

"I can put the pressure on it," I said. I had no idea how this actually worked, so I decided to play things safe for once and ask him how exactly I was supposed to. "Do I just need to put my hands on it for a few minutes?"

“Not your bare hands,” James replied, tired. “Use... I don’t know. The bandages you’re holding will do. They’re already bloody anyway. And it may take more than a few minutes.”

He bit his tongue from saying anything about Skull causing it. It wouldn’t be helpful. It wasn’t going to do anything but annoy him.

“I just... it may be easier for me to lie down for this.”

I nodded.

"Lie down, then," I said, bunching up the bandages so they'd do a better job soaking up the blood. My hands were red now, but I didn't really care.

James half rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bloody shirt and set in under his back just to have something as a barrier between his bare skin and the ground. He laid down and tried to angle himself just a little on his other side so Skull would be able to use more of his body weight to press down. It would be more sustainable that way.

Once Tiberius rolled over, I started putting pressure on his injury. I stayed in silence the entire time - even when Tiberius was stitching himself up, I didn't talk. I didn't usually think about how to be more prepared, but knowing something like this was probably important after getting attacked so much by Nathaniel's old...friends.

When Tiberius was done, we'd get on Tony and leave the clearing. Hopefully, Carter had only sent the soldier I had tied up against the tree.

The rest of the day went on like a haze as James and Skull hurried away from the soldier, and the outpost, and everything related to Carter. There was always the possibility that Butch was somewhere out there, but from how horrified he looked after Skull's stunt, James didn't think he'd be a problem anymore. And if he had to pick between Butch and Carter, he definitely wouldn't choose Carter.

When they finally settled for the night, they made sure the horses were fed and cared for. Skull was moving much faster than he was, but James found himself giving a lot of instruction for how to make "Tony" more comfortable. Traveling out in the forest was never ideal for anyone, including horses, but James had learned how to adjust, just like he had with everything else.

When the sun began to set, they had a small fire going. The sky was painted orange and pink and red above them, and the air was humid and cool. They had to clear away some fallen branches to make a little circle for them to inhabit beneath the shade of the trees, but they made do.

James was back on the ground, lying down with one blanket beneath him and one over him. He'd changed his bandages again and checked on his newly-sewn wound before settling down for the night, and was happy that it seemed to be holding up a lot better. It looked like he was safe from infection, at least. That was the biggest concern, and so far he seemed to be avoiding it.

As he laid beside the crackling fire, he felt like for the first time since his capture his head was clearing. His body was still in pain, but its screaming didn't feel quite as blindingly loud as before.

He tried to recall the last few days, playing through the events in his head.

It still felt like so much.

But what came to mind, out of everything, was when he and Skull (in Oliver's corpse) were riding through the forest. He'd passed out before they talked about much, but Skull had said something that sounded much different in light of what he knew now.

He'd said he'd pay for what he'd done. As a promise.

James stared up at the darkening sky, and it hit him.

Skull was trying to repay him and make up for all he'd done. Which meant Skull had to feel guilty for everything in the first place.

He looked over at Skull in the fading sunlight paired with the bright light of the fire. Skull didn't look any older than 19, and that was being generous. James didn't know what world he was from, or even quite how "other worlds" worked, but if there was another place with different magic of a different kind, how had he ended up here, and why?

And why had he been dragging into all of James's troubles?

It became more clear that Skull might've been a victim of circumstance. He hadn't responded in the most honorable of ways at first, but he was trying. Going so far as to stick by James's side until he was better.

As for how long that would take, James didn't know.

Curiosity - innocent and hesitant - started tugging at him. Skull didn't look like he was going to sleep any time soon... and James didn't think he'd be able to, knowing Carter might be out looking for him.

"Is Skull your real name?" he asked quietly.

I had been digging through Reed's pack - trying to figure out what exactly was inside of it - when I heard Tiberius suddenly speak up from nearby.

I looked over at him; the dying sunlight and light from the fire was casting weird shadows on his face. He had an expression I couldn't quite describe. Curiosity, maybe, along with other thoughts and feelings I couldn't begin to guess about.

Well, it wasn't like my name was exactly normal - no matter what world I had been on, it raised eyebrows.

I looked into the fire.

"No," I admitted. I usually would have given a retort, but it didn't sound like Tiberius was trying to mock me. He was just...intrigued. That was different than how things usually went. "It's a nickname. I had another name, once, but it's been a long time since anyone called me it and knew it belonged to me."

James hummed. He would've guessed it was a nickname of sorts. An odd one, but that seemed to make the most sense. He didn't know what parents would name their kid Skull - but then again, stranger things had happened.

"Do you prefer being called Skull? Or would you want to be called by your true name?"

I let out a little noise - a mix between a quiet laugh and a sigh.

"Skull," I said. "I technically chose it for myself - the name I took it from was much longer. And I don't think anyone who knew me by my birth name would be proud to call me it if they could see me now."

I looked over at him.

"What about you?" I asked. "Do you have a nickname? Tiberius is a mouthful - I was thinking Tibby, but something tells me you won't be too fond of that. If you're anything like Natty boy, that is."

James physically cringed at the name Tibby. That was even worse than Tiberius - a name that he hated not because it was a mouthful, but for all of the history associated with it.

"Oh gods, no," he muttered. "Please don't call me either of those."

He looked into the fire, before averting his gaze up to the sky. He didn't think his face would betray him, but he could never be sure.

"Call me... James."

"James," I repeated.

He looked more like a James, now that I thought about it. Tiberius hadn't just been a mouthful; it had felt wrong. When I thought about it, he had never introduced himself - Tiberius was just what was on the poster, and just what he had been called by other people.

Understanding dawned on me.

"Tiberius was an alias," I realized. "James is your real name, isn't it?"