Young Writers Society

Chapter 25: You're Not You When You're Hungry, Here, Have Some Soup

Before he could get any more concrete answers James was forced to eat, which he took as a personal offense, but also, he understood.

Once his adrenaline phased out and dread pitted in his stomach, he had started to feel the effects of what Robin affectionately called almost dead for two weeks. Apparently, all of that resulted in him fainting in the doorway, not that he could remember how, or when. But it was both embarrassing and humbling, and even though he didn't know what everyone's motives were for keeping him alive, he was grateful. To a degree.

If it meant there was any hope for him to save Clandestine - if she was even still alive - then it was worth it. He was the only one who knew she was captured, and... he didn't know of anyone else who would miss her.

He knew about her time-capsule experience, which he was admittedly, still unsure about, but he realized he knew nothing about her other close friends or family.

Did she have any?

All of her loved ones had died decades ago, but had she managed to make new connections during that time? Was he the only one? It wasn't like he was going to get answers to those questions any time soon.

All of this swirled around his head while he sat on his bed, with a bowl of soup.

Vegetables swirled around in the warm, bubbling broth as he spun them around slowly with his metal spoon. His appetite was nonexistent, but he could feel the aching of his body, begging for food. For something. He just wasn't sure if it would stay down.

It didn't help that he was being watched.

Bo and Mel hung back in the room while Raj and Robin left with Mickey. He wasn't told why, or when they would return. After he'd been given the soup he was told to focus on that before anything else.

But instead, he ended up focusing more on the room. It helped, in some ways. He was able to chew and not think about how the soup felt like a drop of water in a hollow well, or how nausea kept creeping up in little waves.

The the mattress he was sitting on was firm, but the very surface was soft. The sheets were thin and clean, and a faded orange-brown. He wondered if that was a practical choice. In a room for the sick and wounded, the color would be easy to wash without worrying about stains as much.

There were five beds total in the room, all lining one wall. He was on the second from the door, and the other four were empty. On the other side of the room, there were several open shelves and storage compartments where a lot of familiar herbs and medicines were kept at a height that was easy to access. But the thing that was more peculiar was that all of the shelves and tables up against the wall looked like they were carved out of it with precision and intentionality. In fact, every wall, every ceiling, and every floor he'd seen had been made of stone. He had only been in one room and the hall, but it was beginning to set in that they might really be underground.

No windows. And he didn't know where the exits were.

Tension crept into his neck, shoulders, and hands. It was always there, but in moments like this, it made him stiff. He tried taking in deep breaths. Again. Taking a sip of soup, swallowing, counting, breathing.

Surrounded by strangers. Surrounded by mages. Underground. No sun, no exits. With no idea how large the underground bunker was, or if it even qualified as that.

Another sip, another swallow, another breath.

And then there was Clandestine. Trapped, underground as well if his suspicions were correct but in indefinitely more agony. It wasn't fair that he was the one rescued. If Bo and Robin had caught up just a few minutes earlier - not that he knew exactly how long he'd been lying there, bleeding out - then Clandestine would've been here too.

And maybe Carter would be...

Well, he didn't want to think that far ahead just yet.

His spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl a little too loudly, and he flinched. He gritted his teeth, hoping no one saw that.

"How's the soup?" Bo asked.

James's headshot up and he looked across the room. Bo and Mel were sitting at a table where they had been talking quietly. They were only a few feet away, really, but he had been blocking them out without really realizing it. They hadn't been saying anything relevant, so he'd stopped listening.

"Fine," he said curtly.

Mel was in a chair facing away from him, and she turned around in it to face him.

"I want you to finish," she said, somehow both gentle and commanding at the same time. Like a doctor. "If you can."

James just looked at her. He wasn't going to argue with her, but still, he didn't want to. But it would be childish to fight it.

"It's not poisoned, you know," Bo said.

James paused, with the spoon to his mouth, and glared at him.

Mel reached across the table to slap Bo's arm, and Bo laughed.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" Bo said, brushing Mel's hand away.

"Yeah, well he didn't think it was funny," Mel retorted.

Bo's smile faded, and his expression softened as he looked over to James. "Sorry. Not funny."

James didn't know how to respond to a conflict so quickly resolved about him, without him. He looked between Mel, sipped the soup, swallowed, and then replied.

"It's... fine."

Bo got up from his seat, and James watched him closely. His head had to tilt back just a little to follow the man's height. Bo sat on the edge of the table instead. It only brought him a few inches closer, if that.

James set his spoon down in the almost-empty bowl and looked up at him.

"I would like to leave now," he said simply.

Bo blinked. With his one eye. Despite his appearance, he managed to wear a very gentle expression.

"You want to find Clandestine," Bo said. "Don't you?"

James's jaw tensed, and he set his bowl on the bed. He turned to Bo, unable to meet his eyes, but still sending a pointed gaze in his direction. "Listen. You don't know her, and you don't know me. I appreciate the help, but I didn't ask for it. I don't know what you want from me, but yes, I am going to go find Clandestine. And you're going to let me go."

Bo and Mel briefly glanced at each other.

"We're not holding you hostage, if that's what you think," Bo said.

"We wanted to save you," Mel said.

"When Robin and I found you, you were still holding on. You could still be saved," Bo continued. "That's as deep as it goes, man."

James bit down a bitter remark, and looked down at the floor, but kept watching them out of the corner of his eyes.

They seemed genuine. Bo continued talking before James could think of a reply.

"We also want to help find Clandestine. I know we don't know her, but if she was one of us, we'll do everything we can to save her. Especially if she was taken by the kingdom. I know they're not kind to their prisoners." Bo paused, leaning forward just a little. "We've gone undercover before, and as mages, we have resources and abilities that the kingdom may not be prepared for. We should have some of the element of surprise. We can--"

James got to his feet, slowly. "Why do you keep saying 'we'?"

Bo's eyebrows furrowed, and Mel frowned.

"James, you can't seriously be thinking of going in alone -- are you?"

"Also," Mel chimed in. "You literally almost died. I healed you, but it took a lot of work, and you're still in recovery. I don't like the idea of you running off at all, but especially not by yourself."

James shot her a glare, and that was when Bo stood up, towering over him once again. James looked up.

"Look, I know you don't have many reasons to trust us right now," Bo said, keeping his voice soft. "And I know there's probably a lot more going on in your head right now than we know. But I promise you when we say we want to see Clandestine safe just as much as you do. We look out for other mages, and we rescue them from people like Carter. That's what we do. This might be one of the hardest rescue missions we'll go on. And honestly, whether or not you want to come with us, we're going to go after her again anyway. We've been preparing for the trip already. But you know more about her and the Commander--"

"That an assumption?" James cut in, challenging Bo with a stare.

"-- If you think we don't know your real name or your fake name - I really don't know which - but, point is, we did find out who you are. We know you're wanted--"

James felt the urge to run.

"--And we could honestly care less. Anyone who's an enemy of the kingdom, and doesn't have a problem with mages--"

He inched back a few steps, noting where the door was, wondering how far he could get through the halls before he'd get caught again.

"--is a friend of ours. I don't know how you want us to prove that to you, but like you said, or uh, implied - we could have left you for dead, but we didn't. Take that for what it is."

Somewhere in the middle of Bo speaking, James's stare became unfocused, and he was looking somewhere beyond him. Through his head, at the wall.

Allies.

For the first time in his life since he'd become a criminal, he had allies who knew who he was and actually wanted to help... break into the palace? Did they even know what they were signing up for? They knew he was wanted, but that hardly meant they knew everything. They couldn't possibly know why.

There were so many details that needed to be discussed, and yet, the burning question that rushed to the forefront of his mind robbed his attention from all of it.

"My horse." He stuttered. "Where is my horse?"