Young Writers Society

My eye widened in alarm.

I had been so busy worrying about what I was going to do that I had completely forgotten how badly Tiberius had been injured in the past week. I didn't bother to catch the map. I knew Tiberius wouldn't want pity, but I also didn't really care - I was going to help him no matter what he wanted.

"Change of plans," I said. "I'm sticking around with you for now. You need to rest, and you're not going to be doing that when you're on your own."

I want to help support him, but I wasn't sure where to grab. Everything must have been hurting him right now - even the places I hadn't cut into. After a moment passed, I walked over to him and supported him to the best of my ability - making sure to put my hands in places that hadn't been cut.

James was taking in short, choppy breaths. Each inhale sent pain shooting down his side. He stared down at the ground and glared at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, his chest burning with defiance.

“No,” he hissed. “I’m not letting you to-o-ehh-ahh-“ He bent forward as his head began to spin again. He knew if he laid down this time, he wouldn’t be able to resist the pull of sleep. The stress of anxiety had been keeping him teetering on the edge of exhaustion, but he could feel that it was finally here.

Everything hurt.

He felt Oliver grab him, and though pressure wasn’t applied directly to any wounds, James found himself clenching his teeth.

“I don’t. Want. Your help,” he wheezed.

"Too bad," I said. "You're getting it."

I surveyed the clearing we were in again. Butch had gone the opposite direction earlier; it would be safe to camp out here for now. Tiberius needed rest and food. If I could get him to do that first part, I could take care of the second.

"Come on," I said. "You've been going all night. You need sleep. You're not going to be able to outrun Butch again if he shows up when you're like this."

James was curling forward, starting to breathe heavily, each breath shuddering in his chest. His vision felt hazy, and he felt sweat drip down the nape of his neck.

Instinct told him to get up and fight. Instinct told him to run. But he was capable of neither, and Oliver was right. If Butch showed up right now, James would be dead in the water, but he didn’t want to admit it. Unfortunately, he was beyond admission. His body was proving it to him, despite how hard he was desperately trying to keep it together.

His knees buckled underneath him and he fell towards the forest floor.

The moment Tiberius went crashing down to the ground, I knew I had won the argument - and that taking care of him would be even harder than I thought.

I rushed to catch him. I knew I was touching some of his wounds, but it would have been worse if he hit the ground.

I gently lowered him.

"I'm going to set up camp here," I said, "and you can't stop me from doing it."

James felt the blood from his side seeping through his shirt. The fabric stuck and rubbed against the open wound like sandpaper, and James felt his face twinge with pain.

“Okay,” he said, only to realize he hadn’t said it at all. Instead he gasped as Oliver’s hand pressed against the open wound. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body fell limp, and everything went dark.

Tiberius was out for the count, which meant I could finally drop the whole lost doctor act - I didn't have to worry about not living up to expectations. Not that there was anyone for me to interact with right now. I just had Tony and whatever Tiberius called his horse.

I dug out a blanket from Reed's pack and got to work making a comfortable place for Tiberius. I doubted he would notice until he woke up, but the ground was hard. I didn't know that much about first aid, but it definitely seemed like it would hurt laying on the hard ground.

I made a fire, too. Reed had some food in his pack. I weirdly didn't have any urge to eat it myself, but I guessed that was because the body I was possessing was dead. I made Tiberius a little bit to eat. Not too much; he wouldn't be able to stomach it. I knew that from experience.

Once the food was cooking and Tiberius's makeshift bed had been set up, I got to work changing the bandages on his side. I wasn't sure if it was better for him to be wearing a shirt or not, but I got one of Reed's and slipped it on over the new bandages.

Finally finished with everything I needed to do, I let out a sigh and leaned up against the closest tree.

James came to slowly. He knew he was lying on his back, somewhere in the forest. He knew someone was nearby, and he could smell the smoky scent of fire and food in the air, floating over him. He felt cleaner and less sticky. The bandages didn't feel as glued to his skin as they did before, and he knew some of his previous weariness had worn off.

He didn't want to move until he finally recalled how he'd ended up here.

His eyes shot open as he remembered Oliver, and the map, and trying to point the doctor in the right direction. He intended to sit up, but he'd only lifted his head off the ground before pain threw him back into the forest floor. His head sunk back into the blanket under him and he turned his head to the medic by the fire, leaning against a tree.

Butch hadn't caught up to them or found them yet. That was the only reason they were both still alive, which meant they had both been lucky.

"How long was I out?" he rasped.

Well, it looked like my break from being the doctor was over - Tiberius was up.

"Not long," I said. I glanced up, trying to see if I could figure out how long going off of the sun. My sense of time was terrible, thanks to being a ghost for so long.

"Only a few hours," I clarified. "How are you feeling?"

James slowly turned his head and looked up at the sky, and the sun through the trees. Maybe two hours. Not long. He couldn’t blame Oliver for his rough estimation - James was just narrowing down the time to know how many hours were lost and how much closer Butch might be to finding them (if he was still looking, which, at this rate, he wasn’t sure). Butch had invested a lot of time in his capture (and his torture) and he didn’t know if Butch was willing to let it all “go to waste.”

James sighed.

“How do you think I feel? You should know better than anyone. You were the one who bandaged me up.”

I sat up a little straighter.

If only Tiberius knew I wasn't just the one who had bandaged him - I was the one who gave him the injuries that needed bandaging. It was something I couldn't admit to him, but it still made me pause.

"I was trying to be friendly," I said. "I know you're probably feeling terrible right now, but I thought I'd ask."

James slowly turned his head back to Oliver.

He did appreciate the help, to a degree. He still didn’t want to trust Oliver, but in his current condition, he didn’t have much of a choice - nor had the medic given him one.

It took him a moment, but he finally realized he was wearing a different shirt that was clean, and not his own. A wave of discomfort washed over him. He knew Oliver meant well, but James still felt deeply unsettled that things had been done to him while unconscious - even good and well-meaning things.

He didn’t realize he’d been blankly staring at Oliver for a while instead of answering. His head was somewhere else.

“We need... to keep moving,” he said simply. “I don’t want to run into Butch again.”

I dismissed his concern with a wave of my hand.

"We'll be fine," I said. We probably would be, considering that I could actually possess him this time around. I'd still have Tiberius to deal with, but I'd have the upper hand with Butch's muscles. "Butch went in the other direction."

I peered over at the food - it was a stew I had made with some of the ingredients in Reed's pack. I wasn't sure how good it tasted, but stew was the kind of food I had always liked. If I ate it when it was still hot enough, the warmth would settle in my chest. Tiberius could probably use something like that right now.

"Besides," I said, getting up and heading over to Tony, "we have food. It's not good to eat too much after not eating for awhile, but you need something in your stomach. I'm not letting you die of starvation after everything I did to make sure you stayed alive."

James hadn't registered that the food might be for him. His gaze stayed on Oliver, unfocused as he explained the obvious. James had gone without food many times in his life. He already knew what the doctor was saying, but he let him express his concerns anyway.

James didn't want to die of starvation either, but of all the ways to die, it didn't seem like as terrible as a week of torture at the moment. But he couldn't count on that thought as a reliable reflection of how he'd feel on a more 'normal' day.

He took in a slow and steady breath. Eating meant sitting, and sitting meant moving. If he could manage riding through the dark of night, he could manage sitting up.

He started to tuck his arms up at his sides, content with moving just a little faster than a sloth. He took another deep breath before slowly pushing himself up, wary of reopening any more wounds. His arms trembled for only a moment before he was finally upright, and looked again at Oliver.

"Fine," he said. "I'll eat first."

"Good," I said.

I grabbed two bowls and spoons from Reed's pack. I wasn't sure how much I would actually end up eating - the body I was in right now didn't really have a drive to eat, seeing that it was dead - but I had to at least try to pretend that I was normal. I couldn't let Tiberius get suspicious.

After I filled up the bowls with stew, I passed one over to Tiberius. I made sure to watch him as I ate mine. I wasn't sure if he could actually handle lifting the spoon and holding the bowl, but I knew he wouldn't want me to interfere yet. If he couldn't handle it, I'd take over.

It was my fault he was like this right now, anyways.