Young Writers Society

"He didn't," I said, resisting the urge to glare back at him. I adjusted my grip on Tiberius to make sure he didn't slip off when he turned to look back at me. Part of me wanted to let him do exactly that, but now was the time. "He just came to me out of nowhere and said he was going to kill me if I didn't pay back my debt. Since I didn't have the money - which I'm pretty sure he had already guessed - he just told me to come with him if I wanted to repay the debt."

I let out a tired sigh.

"You saw how Butch is," I said. "I wanted to ask more about you, but he would have killed me if I had."

I felt a little smug by the time I finished talking - that had to be convincing. I didn't know what else I could say if it wasn't.

"So why do you have a bounty?" I insisted.

James held his glare but turned away, face settled in a look of displeasure. He knew Butch was a violent man and normally a successful and ambitious bounty hunter, but Oliver was wildly presumptuous to think James knew how Butch was with people he wasn't trying to kill or capture. James might've guessed that Butch's penchant for threats of violence might've leaked into his professional and personal life, but he really didn't care enough to find out.

"Treason," he replied curtly. "Go find a poster at a kingdom outpost. You'll be able to read that, right?"

I was quiet for a minute.

"...Actually," I finally said, "I wouldn't."

I wasn't usually ashamed of not being able to read. It wasn't like it was a skill everyone had when I was growing up. But it was to the rest of the world - and other worlds - and hearing it used as an insult hurt in a way I hadn't expected.

I cleared my throat a little, picked a maggot off of my skin, and tried to pretend like it hadn't hurt me even when it was obvious it had - the insult, not the maggot.

"So treason, huh?" I said. "I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. You seem like the type of guy who likes avoiding confrontation. What kind of treasonous things did you do? From the way Butch was after you, it must have been pretty bad."

When Oliver grew quiet, James was quiet, and he realized he had been wrong about Oliver. Whatever annoyance had traced his features faded.

It wasn't just that Oliver couldn't read maps. He couldn't read at all. James felt the faint sting of regret in his chest. He hadn't thought the insult would be based in truth, but he'd assumed wrong. It pricked him, like a needle to his heart. Annoying, but deserved.

But James didn't feel like telling his whole life story just because the doctor couldn't read.

"Bad only by the definition of the people who are willing to pay money for my capture," he replied, his voice lacking the previous biting anger and instead tired, like a wilted plant. "What I did is none of your business."

I peered over his shoulder at him.

"What?" I said, recovering a little bit of my spite. "Are you worried that I'm going to judge you for whatever you did? I'm not hypocritical enough to judge you because you made a mistake or two - I've made plenty myself."

I knew, of course, that Tiberius wasn't magically going to open up to me just because I admitted I wasn't a perfect person. But I had to at least try. I didn't feel like outright annoying him right now; I needed an actual conversation. And Tiberius was exactly the kind of guy who hated conversations.

"What's your family like, then?" I asked.

James felt his blood run cold. He would never speak of his family to anyone, and especially not a random medic.

“Dead,” he said cooly.

"Oh," I said.

I hadn't expected that as a response. I wasn't sure what to say for a moment; I had been hoping he'd describe them a little more. But I knew that was foolish for me to think, considering that I'd say the same thing about my own family most of the time.

"...Mine are dead, too," I finally said. "They've been gone a long time, so it doesn't really bother me as much as I used to."

James’s heart sunk in his chest. Another needle of guilt pricked him, and he inwardly cringed. He hadn’t expected to find common ground with a lie.

His family was still alive, but as far as they knew, he had been lost and dead for years. He didn’t know how they were doing, but it was less that they were dead to him. He was dead to them. But Oliver’s family was actually dead.

James wanted to go back to the silence. He wanted to forget everything he ever said.

“...I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice probably softer and kinder than Oliver deserved. “About your family.”

"It's alright," I said, dismissively. "Like I said, it's been awhile since they died. I'm not even sure I can remember their faces now."

I hesitated after I spoke - I said it like I didn't care, but I really did. It had been more than a century since I had last seen them; not being able to remember what they looked like wasn't a blessing in the slightest. I knew I wasn't their little boy anymore, but still. Shouldn't an orphan remember what his parents looked like if he was old enough to remember what it had been like to live with them?

"I'm sorry about yours, though," I added. "It must have happened recently."

There was a tightness in his chest that was not welcome. James stared ahead at the trees, actively pushing back all thoughts of his family.

“What makes you say that?”

"The way you deflected my question," I said.

I looked away from Tiberius, my gaze going to the forest in front of us.

"Back when my parents died, I'd react like that," I said. My grip on him tightened a bit. "I'd either avoid the subject or get angry when they brought up. I was also only seven, so the anger part might have been because I wasn't sure how to handle my emotions yet."

I paused.

"...You're avoiding the subject," I said, "which is why I thought it was recent - you still care a lot about them. It's harder to, once they've been gone for long enough."

James did not like that Oliver’s voice was so close to his ear. His words felt like they were ringing through his head.

Bounty hunters only asked about his family because they bored or wanted to scare him. People who didn’t know he was wanted asked as a normal part of relational conversation. He wanted to believe Oliver fell into the boredom category, but his words were far too somber to feel like he was continuing out of pure boredom.

Why did Oliver have such burning curiosity? James couldn’t wait until he was left alone, where no one would poke and prod him and unearth the pain of his past, whether it went said or not.

At the first mention of his family, they were there, and so was the guilt that came with the weight of years upon years of regret.

“I don’t imagine I will ever stop caring for them,” he said simply, his voice growing quieter.

"You won't," I softly said.

I never had. I still cared for my parents. My connection with them had just grown distant over time. I knew Tiberius was never going to experience what I had - he'd never be sitting in a jar a century and a half later, haunting his own skull and wondering what his parents would have thought if they could see him now.

"I'm sorry for asking," I finally said. "I know it's hard to talk about."

James looked down at his hands.

Sometimes, he would would go days without thinking about his family. Sometimes weeks. But always, always, they would come back like a haunting memory, even before his life had fallen off the path, past the point of no return.

If they saw him now, he knew they’d never want him to come home. He didn’t expect them to ever forgive him for what he did, and he couldn’t blame them. He deserved it, a hundred times over.

All he managed in reply to Oliver was a quiet hum before he became drowned in his thoughts.

If they kept going in the direction Butch was leading them, they might’ve passed his family. The thought made him want to take a shovel to the earth and bury himself. Not to be dramatic, or anything.

"...Sometimes I wonder if they'd be proud of me," I softly said. I didn't know why I was telling so much to him - I didn't even admit this much to Nikko, and she was my best friend.

It was hard to get the words out, but I felt like Tiberius of all people would understand.

"...I know they wouldn't be," I said. "I'm not the boy they knew anymore. I've...I've done so many things wrong."

I took a deep breath, hesitant to admit how guilty I felt over what happened earlier. It wasn't like I expected Tiberius to suddenly like me for it.

"...And that's not even including what I let happen to you. I should have done something, but..."

I caught a glimpse of his face.

I had been so busy talking that I didn't realize he had gone limp in my arms. It looked like sleep had finally overtaken him. I made a little noise of disbelief, but I wasn't really surprised. I knew he would fall asleep soon. I just hadn't expected it in the middle of our conversation.

I sighed and shook my head.

"It's just my luck," I said, an amused tone slipping into my voice. "I'm finally opening up to someone about my deepest, darkest doubts and guilt, and he falls asleep right as I reach the good part."

I looked at the forest, then glanced back down at him.

"I'll pay for what I did," I finally whispered - saying the words I had been wanting to say all along, but had been too scared to voice. "I promise."